Edge Of Gravity
by SannM
Summary: In a PostWar wold wherein your friends can be your enemy and your enemies your friend, will the remaining members of the Order be able to make a difference? Disclaimer Don't Own just move around on my chess board
1. Welcome Home

The air was stale with unused magic, washing over any who stepped on the over grown grass. Those who had died within its walls all those years ago called a grave that once home. Leaving only a shell of a castle that threatened to crumble beneath your very feet.

The smell lingered on him like a bad nightmare that turned out to be real. Something that seemed to be replaying in his mind and made his entire body ache as it had not done in too long. He wanted to cry, wanted to destroy who ever had awoken him but he knew he couldn't. His entire being was too weak; he was too weak to think.

"Harry." He blinked his eyes, not moving his head. It was hard to breathe now, why was it so hard like he was slipping away again. The pain left almost as quickly as it came. His vision faded. "No, please Harry. No, please."

He felt like that something was pulling him; yanking him back to what he was sure was heaven. It was warm, so warm and his entire being was lifting. He wanted to follow, pulled by it but something was holding him back. Holding him back from where he had just come from, from the loving arms of those he loved.

"Harry, please we need you."

The words seemed to float up to him, but they didn't make sense, as they should. It all seemed so insignificant, but why? Why were they so unimportant? The wall seemed too thin, letting him rise higher, but his mind kept wondering why the words were so unimportant. They had meant something, right.

"Damn it Potter, don't fucking do this prat."

Harry dropped, his entire being dropped, into a flash of pain. His body came fully into recognition as he felt his lungs suddenly jerk awake as if they had been asleep. It was the oddest feeling, to breath, as if your life depended on it. It was strange, as he let the breath go out. He didn't want to breath, it made him hurt.

"Breath, Harry. Please breath."

No, he didn't like breathing. It was too much work, and…the pain was disappearing again. It was nice, but this time he wasn't lifting. He was staying motionless but the pain was going. "FUCK POTTER BREATH!"

Suddenly the pain forced into him, as breathing thrust upon him. _No, don't want to breathe. _Harry thought, as he tried to move his head away but it refused to obey. It wiggled a little but it wouldn't move anymore. "BREATH HARRY PLEASE!"

The air rushing into him, then gone again. It was hurting, as if his lungs were shredding under the pressure. "BREATH POTTER YOU FUCKING PRAT!" Harry let his lungs take over, refusing to be forced. They were taking on the Potter stubbornness, as they took in lung-full after lung-full of air. It hurt to breath but it wasn't nearly as bad as the forceful pressure.

"That's it Harry, that's it."

His body felt strange, like it didn't belong to him. It was as if he was wearing some weird coat, and he couldn't seem to find the zipper to get out. _Breathing bloody hurt. _Harry wished he could open his eyes but his body seemed to be following someone else's command now.

"Harry, can you hear me?"

__

Hermione? Harry wished he could frown it all seemed so strange. He knew her, but she seemed like a distant memory. _Why? _Harry felt a slight control slip within his grasp as his eyes focused, as if he had them open the entire time. Why was it he could remember?

"Potter, come on, you can do it."

Why was it so important, why was suddenly struggling for control over him and lifting up not that important anymore? "Maybe we did it wrong."

"No."

"We could have botched the root, I told you I couldn't make out what it was."

"Bloody hell Granger, shut up." Harry felt utter anger slipping through him as he fought harder for control. He had to get control, something was wrong and he couldn't get control. "Come on, Potter. You hear us Potter I know you can. Come on."

Something seemed to snap into place, as suddenly he felt a control. He rolled his head to the side, as he blinked and someone started to come into focus. It felt weird to see things again, almost as if you were looking through cameras.

"Harry." Harry felt a smile prickling his mouth, as he recognized the blur. Hermione. It was good to see her again. "Don't cry, Harry. It's okay, we're here."

He tried to say her name, but his lungs burned too much. "Don't try to speak Potter. It's too soon." Harry heard the voice, and wanted to turn towards it but he just couldn't. Hermione seemed to be the only thing he wanted to see, why she had seemed so unimportant just a moment ago.

"HARRY?"

"Damn it, Potter."

__

BUGGER! He had forgotten to breathe, damn. The breath forced, but it didn't hurt nearly as much this time. It made him feel kind of like a balloon, as he stared up at the blonde hair in his face. _Draco? _Why was he here?

His breathing came back to him, as he waited for a moment repeating over and over again to breath. It became a chant that was fading and his body following as a command. _Breath in…Breath out. _He wished he knew why it had seemed so easy before, and why he forgot. He never forgot before.

"Potter, if you do that again I will kill you." Harry looked up it was Draco. He would recognize that arrogant brow anywhere. "Wipe that smug fucking smile off your face, Potter. Do you have his glasses, Granger?"

"Yeah." Harry rolled his head, as he watch Hermione digging through her robes. Funny, she always organized before. "Here you go Harry."

Harry felt his body suddenly scream, as he felt himself jerk. _Why did she look like that? She looked old, not ancient but older. She looked, hell he say about 30. _"Relax Potter. It's okay, just give it some time."

"Hermione." The words sounded so foreign to him, it seemed almost like a puzzle from some ancient sand script.

"Harry." Hermione cried, as she leaned forward to give him a soft kiss on the cheek. It felt nice, warm but not the full body tingle warmth that he was use too. "I…I."

"Quiet Granger."

Harry felt like he was in some kind of dream, as he felt his head pulled to the other side. "Malfoy." His hands were upon Harry's face, tilting it from side to side as if he was looking for something that Harry had no idea about.

"Welcome back, Potter."


	2. Blood On My Hands

Neville stalked down the hall, his eyes darting to the darkened corners wondering if any of the Death Eaters would jump out any moment. This was probably the only place he could feel safe, but all the years had taught him is that it was never safe, not even at Hogwarts. A hollowness settled over him as he thought about his old headmaster, in the old days he would of cried but that was a sign of weakness. A sign of what he could no longer be, besides the tears had long ago dried.

"Longbottom." The words were no more then a hiss, but he had heard it as clear as day as he turned towards the voice.

"Snape." He looked at the man who had been his former potion professor, a irritation settling where fear use to lie. "What do you need?" The man had aged, his shoulders were no longer straight but kind of slumped in a defeat that had pressed upon him over the years. His eyes dulled from sharp wit to a crazed fool. The man had taken it hard, hell they had all taken it hard.

"Severus." Snape snapped, straightening to his former glory causing a wince of pain to slip across his face. His once jet black hair falling across his face a if metallic strips of metal were caressing his cheeks.

Neville had grown to care for this man he had once feared, in fact in a way love as he had never loved his own father. Snape had almost been like a father, when he joined forces with the war. Sure, he had feared the man and he had made comments that made him want to hex 'the old bastard' but he had made him strong. He had hardened him enough so when the battle came he had been ready, and when he was captured he had been able to survive and make it out.

When he had first walked into Snape's house, the man nearly killed him with the Avada Kedavra

curse. Then, for the very first time the Potions Master, at least in front of Neville, had broken down in tears. He had cried so hard, that it made Neville wish he had tears to cry. "Severus." He sighed, finally allowing Snape to slouch back into his former posture.

"I wanted to know when you will down for breakfast." Snape always tried to sound so distant, apart like he didn't give a fig if you joined him or not but he knew the truth of it. He had seen what Snape really was, a man broken by the bastard who had given him the mark nearly 10 years ago.

"I cannot this morning, Severus."

"Fine." Severus turned on his heels, his cape billowing in the way only Snape could get it to. Sometimes he almost wondered if he spelled the cape to make every entrance and exit as dramatic as possible. "I shall tell Dobby to bring it up to you."

Neville wanted to tell him he needn't bother, but Snape was impossible to argue with when it came to some things. "Thank you." He called, smirking as he heard a snort of annoyance down the hall. Knowing Snape the meal would be in the room before he even had a chance to sit down.

He turned I a sharp movement, forcing the smirk to the back of him. "Bugger." Longbottom muttered, as he turned to the room which had been his goal all along letting the smirk drop from him. His steps were not as cautious as he walked to the solid wood door. The room had been sound proofed earlier by himself, but he could not fight the caution that had been imbedded into him over the years.

He didn't have to open the door to know what was going on, he was sitting strapped to the chair screaming, if his voice didn't give out already. His arms and legs rubbed raw by the rope, and staring bloody murder at his wand that Neville had placed on a table merely four feet from him. They both knew he wouldn't be able to get it, he had charmed him with every spell he could think of, plus the rope had been for extra protection just in case.

Neville schooled his expression, as he had learned while his imprisonment. To show emotion would only leave you in a ball of your pain, and a scars that not even magic could cover. He pushed open the door, walking through the silencing spell and shutting the door with a sharp click. "You bloody bastard, if you don't let me the fuck out of here I will kill you and that fucking fool of a Potions Professor."

Neville didn't hold back his anger, as he let his hand fall across the man face. "You can try Seamus, but you will be dead long before your wand even touches your fingers."

"Fuck you, Longbottom." Seamus had been a betrayer, allowing the dark side to seduce him with the offers Voldermort had given when the war had ended. It made him sick to his stomach, as he watch the boy who had nearly blown up the entire potions class in their sixth year, during the Death Eater meetings. Seamus maybe not a good wizard but he was very good at being a human. Unlike other wizards in Voldermort's order Seamus killed like a human, and remorseless like a Death Eater.

The first meeting he had thought the boy had taken the mark for the same reason he was going to, but he had found out different after his third meeting after taking the mark. Seamus had killed a muggle, a young woman who couldn't be much older then them. He had brought his fist down upon her, till she lay slumped in the circle of cheering Death Eaters.

His stomach had released itself, as soon as his feet had hit Snape's tile foyer. He had wretched up everything, as the young woman screams and cries echoed through him. Neville wasn't sure if it was really the beating that made him lose his stomach, or that more then a handful of his once friends had been standing in the circle cheering Seamus on. "Seamus, the longer you resist me the more painful your death will be."

They both knew that Neville was going to kill him, he had too if he didn't want it to get back to the Dark Lord. "I don't care." Seamus tried to sound convincing, but they both knew it was too late for indifference after he had begged for his life on the sixth day.

Neville clenched his jaw, as he looked away from the boy he had once called friend. She had begged for her life, he had watched her. Watched as they killed her, like animals they jumped upon her and killed. He had wanted to protect the girl he had always secretly called love, but they held him and made him watch as she died by the hands of the group. The ringleader he now knew as Seamus, after he had confessed it was him on the third day. "I am going to kill you Seamus, and if you don't tell me soon I will start tonight."

"Do you think I care, Longbottom?" A cough erupted from Seamus, as a small trickle of blood leaked out from his mouth.

"Then I guess, you don't mind that I am starting." Neville had learned wandless magic in his studies over the years, and he didn't even have to think to do it anymore. It just kind of feed off of his emotions, and struck down those who were unfortunate enough to be the end of it.

"Neville." Seamus voice was shredded, as he hunched over in his chair as much as the ropes would allow. "Please."

Neville turned his eyes on Seamus then, as his magic released and ripped at the rope till Seamus was sitting in the chair. "Why?" Seamus tried to move but his body would not allow it, to weak from the week and half of magic exposure and exhaustion.

"Because I…you are my friend." Seamus looked like a child, slumped over in the chair. His robes in tatters and a few blood stains coloring the floor around him. "Because we are mates."

Seamus was weak, he was a pathetic person who would only release the burden of him on the world. "Mates?" His laughed, crossing his arms and tilting his head at him. "Really? Is that what you call it Seamus."

The boy only pulled more into himself, as the sniffling started. Neville stared in disgust, as he saw tears rain down upon the robes that held the Slytherin colors. "Neville." Seamus's whimpered, he didn't bother to raise his hand to wipe away the tears, or maybe he just didn't have the strength anymore. "We're mates, you are probably the only person who knew that I was totally mad for Professor McGongall."

"Didn't stop you from watching her die, did it?"

"I didn't watch, I didn't even join till after." He sobbed, his body shaking from exhaustion and pain. "I would of protected her if I was…"

"Was what? A Death Eater." Neville walked over to Seamus, staring down at the mouse brown hair. He was shaking his head, as his shoulders quaked from the tears that was now leaving a rather large spot on the front of robe. "No, you would of probably killed her." The words were so cold, that it would of even made Snape proud.

"Neville, I…" His once friend looked up with a expression of utter exhaustion, he knew that he had spoken the truth. One whimper from McGongall and he would have been upon her like a vulture, and choked the life from her. "I had to survive."

"You shouldn't have." Neville turned on Seamus, as he snatched the wand from the table. Seamus looked in horror at him, as tears dripped down his cheeks. "I will not be back." Neville deadpanned, as he walked from the room.

He could hear Seamus sobbing fully, as he stepped out of the silencing charm. Seamus would be dead in a few days, perhaps sooner since he was so weak. He would wait the full time though, as he put the strongest locking spell upon the door so Dobby would not enter the room by accident. The poor house elf would of probably of fallen for the performance, Seamus had put on.

"Perhaps I can fit a little time in." Neville muttered to himself, as he thought of Snape downstairs. He was probably still ordering Dobby around, threatening the elf with death if he burnt his toast. Neville had walked in on Snape snapping orders to the elf, who seemed utterly oblivious of the threats on more then one occasion.

A warmth spilled across him, Snape and Dobby were probably his only pleasure now. The only thing that kept him sane at times. He walked down the over elaborate set of stairs, that Snape had informed him his grandmother had charmed to prevent him from falling when he was a little boy.

"Longbottom?" Neville looked up from the carved banister, to see Snape balancing a tray of eggs, bacon, toast, and porridge on the side. "I didn't trust that idiot would make it up without spilling it all over the rugs."

Neville shook his head, trying to force a smile that wanted to grace his lips so bad it hurt to hide. Snape was like this, he would make up something about Dobby's incompetence and deliver the meal himself. They both knew that Dobby had trouble with stairs, sometimes the elf couldn't even walk in which Snape would sneer and make breakfast for the three of them muttering to himself about how incompetent Dobby was for not telling him that he was out of potion for his legs.

"I decided to join you for my meal." Neville walked down the steps, taking the tray from his former Professor. Snape clenched his jaw, before turning on his heels. He didn't fight the smile, as he looked at Snape's form returning to kitchen.

"Come along Longbottom." Neville spurred forward, following Snape into the kitchen. A small table was set up in middle of the kitchen, with three chairs around it. They no longer ate in the dinning room, after Snape had told them that they would destroy a priceless family heirloom because he and Dobby spilled things on it. Personally he thought it was because he hated how impersonal it was, but he would never inform Snape of that opinion.

"Dobby, Longbottom has decided to have breakfast down here." Snape announced, as he took his seat next to Dobby.

Neville smiled down at the little house elf, who looked up with huge eyes. Dobby was not the same creature he was at Hogwarts, he seemed almost hollowed out; left with only small scraps of his former self. There was no longer a twinkle that once graced the small elf's eyes, a smile was no longer a commonplace on the face either. It was a rare commodity, almost a rare as Snape's. The small body covered with puckered scars that was left by Malfoy, when he had taken the creature for a torture toy.

He hated to think of the almost year that Malfoy had used the creature, before discarding him. He would of probably of killed him, if Snape had not expressed his want to torture the creature before it died. Severus had nursed the creature back to health, well, as well as he could get. "Morning Dobby."

"Morning Master Longbottom." Dobby tried to smile as he did every morning, but finally gave up and continued to eat his porridge that was in front of him. Neville placed the contents of the tray upon the table, before he took his spot around the small circle table.

Fifteen years ago, he would of thought this was kind weird nightmare from drinking too much butter beer from Hogsmede but now it was the only thing that kept him going. That made thoughts of past, and future that plagued him in his sleep be forgotten.

"Are you planning on eating your food Longbottom, or are you just going to watch it mold?" Snape barked, not looking up from book that was oddly commonplace at every meal even though it was never saw it place on the table once.

"Sorry, Snape." Neville sighed, filling his spoon with porridge. It had gotten blander over the years but it was better then his pathetic attempt at cooking in which he filled the bottom half of Snape's home with smoke.

"Severus."


	3. Just A Ghost To The World

Harry let the tears drip down his cheeks as he tried to process what he had just been told. "Hagrid?" He whispered, pulling his legs up to his chest.

"Yes."

"McGonagall?"

"Yes."

"Snape?"

"Yes, as far as I know."

Harry turned his head, looking at this older version of Malfoy. His eyes were downcast, his body slumped; so unlike the arrogant young boy he had disliked all of his Hogwarts days. The boy that had called Hermione a mudblood or taunted him into misery. This was a man who had seen too much death for someone as young as he was.

"Last I saw of Snape, he was trying to fight off a Death Eater from your…"

"Body." It was a strange thing to know you have died, that your very soul had been sucked from your remains and then remember it as clearly your first kiss.

"Yes." Draco's voice was strained, strangled to a mere movement of lips as he tried to hide the tears he was wiping from his face. "He fought to the very end for you, till they were able to get your body away."

"What made you change sides?" Harry remembered Draco watching on one of the moving sets of stairs before he heard Avada Kedavra.

"You." Draco didn't try to hide that he had been on Voldermort's side, he was even going to take the dark mark in one week's time after school had let out. He had thought he would take his rightful spot by his father, but then - the attack on Hogwarts. Voldermort had killed without mercy, student after student; Had killed without remorse like a mad man. He hadn't cared if those bodies were on his side or not, he had just killed.

It had been during their last year exams and Harry had been on his way to Snape's class. He had watched from above, as the stairs moved and student after student died. Harry had pushed Granger out of the way as spells were tossed at him and students collapsed around him like flies.

He had watched in grim fascination till he watched Potter drop. Harry wasn't suppose to drop, he wasn't suppose to lose. Sure he was going to be beat one day but by him, not by someone else. "Potter!" He remembered screaming as his father was pulling him down. "Stay down." His father had hissed in his ear, but he couldn't.

Harry Potter was not dead, he couldn't be.

The next he remembered he was peaking over the banister and saw Snape fighting against the rising group of Death Eaters. "I watched you die, Potter, and I knew it was wrong."

"Why, because it wasn't you?" Malfoy flinched, realizing Harry knew why he had thought it was wrong.

"Yes." He whispered.

"Harry, you have to understand, no one knows that you're alive. It can't get around. If it does, they could truly destroy you this time."

"What do you call what they did the first time, Hermione?" Harry deadpanned, looking out the window of his old Hogwarts room. "Hell, I can still feel what it was like."

"Harry…"

"No." Draco raised his hand as Granger's voice wavered, her eyes brimming with tears. "Potter, I know what you have been through but--"

"You KNOW WHAT I'VE BEEN THROUGH?" Harry screamed, as much as his recovering vocal cords would allow. "MALFOY YOU HAVE NO FUCKING CLUE!"

"Harry." Hermione choked, a fresh batch of tears streaming down her cheeks.

"No, all I wanted to do is graduate, be happy, have a life but I died! Do you know what that fucking feels like Malfoy? Do you know what it is to die?"

Harry stood up from his window sill, trying his best not to let his legs give out. "I know. I know just what it feels like to feel yourself slipping the fuck away, do you? Fight with all your fucking might but still lose. Do you know--"

"HARRY STOP!" Draco clenched his jaw, turning away. "You need to save your energy, Potter."

"Draco, was just trying…" Hermione fell silent as Draco raised a hand.

"Potter, I do not wish to fight with you." His voice was strained as though the world was sitting upon his shoulders.

Harry nearly fell back on the window seat, taking a step back from Draco, before turning away. This was not the boy he had known when he was young, the boy who always looked smug and made attempts to prompt him into fights. Hell, if he was still in school they would of cursed each other by now, but it wasn't, was it?

Harry could feel Hogwarts then, it was not the Hogwarts he knew that made you feel warmed even in your darkest hour but something else that could only be described as misplaced.

It made him feel more lost, made him feel like he was standing more outside himself then before. The world he had left, the one he knew, had fallen apart and not even the memories could revive it. It made him shudder with the thought that maybe if he would have just jumped out of the way, if he would have…

"Don't do that, Potter."

Harry looked up to see Draco sneering down at him. "Don't you bloody do that, because it's to late now to even think about it."

Draco eyes took on the look of when he was younger, the dare-to-defy-me look that had been patented by the Malfoy's for so many decades they should have gotten royalties for it. "Because it's true."

"Harry." Hermione voice was so soft, it made him wonder if it was the magic of the castle tricking him. Hermione sounded defeated, so unlike the never surrender attitude he had always known in her. "There was nothing you could have done."

"I could have destroyed him. It was my destiny." Harry felt so tired, like he had been rung out and now it was just catching up with him.

"No, Potter. There was nothing you could of done. It was already too late by the time they actually attacked Hogwarts. The Order was already set, even if you could have killed Voldermort, the order would of killed you."

"Order?" He asked groggily, feeling sleep clawing at the back of eyes. It was too much to deny but he had to stay awake, he had to know.

"Order of Voldist." Hermione words were choked, making her sound older, more heartbroken.

Harry looked back at Hermione, noticing for the first time the bags and age lines; years of pain carved into her skin that perhaps he could of prevented. "Then why bring me back."

"Because we needed you." Draco stated, the sarcasm that almost always dripped from his words was not there.

Harry blinked at Draco, the man looked more like Lucius then he cared to remember, except for a few things that had marked Lucius. The long blonde hair was cut into a short almost jagged cut that fell around a face that was more beautiful then his father. Also, he wasn't donned in robes that fit a king, but a robe that would match Ron's hand me down robes. "Ron? Where's Ron?"

Draco turned away from Harry, his movements stiff. "We better get you out of here."

"Hermione?" Harry whispered, feeling his stomach bottom out. **_NO, NO, NO! _**His mind screamed as Hermione looked passed him out the window. "NO!"

"Draco's right." She whispered, trying her best to sound even. She didn't move though, just continued to stare out the window. He wished he could see the memories flashing in her eyes, the thing that made tears glimmer in them.

"He's dead isn't…" Harry didn't finish as a sharp pain shot through his scar. "Ahh." He hissed, as he grabbed his head, it had been to long since that had happened.

"Harry?"

"Dementor's, damn it." Draco hissed, running up to the window that Harry was sitting by.

"I told you we should have just brought him back." Hermione's snapped, as she rushed forward to Harry. "It was to close to nightfall."

"What would suggest that we do, Granger? Potter wouldn't have survived the trip." Malfoy hissed, watching the Dementor's float about the courtyard of Hogwarts.

"He would have survived, and even not, we could of brought him back a…"

"Granger!" Draco turned on her then, eyes narrowing. "We were barely able to do it this time! It was only because of the..." He fell silent, his eyes nervously shifting back to Harry before turning back to the window.

"We could…" She fell silent as Harry gave another hiss. "We can't apparate from here."

"We will have to take him to the woods, it is the only safe place."

"No, you know that isn't safe in the Forbidden Forest." Hermione argued, wrapping her arms around Harry's waist. "They'll be upon us before we are three trees in."

"We don't have a choice." Draco voice was sharp, as he ran to the doorway of the room. "They will kill us, and you know that Granger."

"But we'll die in the…" Hermione fell silent, as Draco pulled his wand.

"Take Potter to the forest, they are coming too fast." Draco stepped in the hall, his eyes scanning the rubble before waving Hermione out. "Go quickly, and do not use your wand if you can help it. They will only attack if you use…"

__

Crash.

"Draco, we can run for the..." Hermione clutched tighter onto Harry's waist as he began to convulse in her arms.

"Granger, get Potter out of here. We can't afford to lose him again." Draco hissed as the high pitch screeches echoed. They were within the castle, probably within the dungeons.

"Draco, I can't leave you…"

"Bollocks Granger, just go!" Draco snapped, setting his wand to ready. "They're already too close for us to do anything else."

"I will come back for you." Hermione voice was shallow, strengthening her grip around Harry's waist. "I promise Draco."

"Hermione." Draco called, glancing back to see her pause as she half dragged Harry away from him. "There is no point."


	4. The Summons

"Am I going to have to rewash every dish you 'clean' Longbottom, or are you planning on just letting the dishes to grow arms and legs to wash themselves?" Severus snapped as he bent to re-clean another dish.

"Perhaps I am, Severus." Neville smirked, feeling a warm bubble form in his stomach.

"The dishes would have long ago abandoned you, if not for my re-cleaning." The potions master sneered, replacing another dish in the cupboard. "Between Dobby and yourself, I am lucky to still have a home."

"Dobby is going to bed, sirs."

Neville smiled down at the small elf, watching as he shuffled past. "Goodnight Dobby."

He turned back to the sink, knowing Snape would watch the small house elf till he exited the room. The poor creature had fallen ill twice in the last month, which had worried both Snape and himself. They could not lose him.

If it had not been for Severus, the elf would have died. Snape had spent days on end by the elf's sick bed, nursing him with his potions and keeping Dobby cool to decrease the fever that over took him several times. When the elf had recovered, he had sneered at him, saying that he had only nursed him back to health because he would not tolerate another meal from Longbottom.

"Perhaps one of us should watch him tonight, I think he pushed himself today."

Neville knew that Snape had been worried about the elf today. Their tiny friend had run himself ragged with the chores he said needed to be done, though they all knew it was more for the sake of keep himself busy and masking the newest, and most telling, of manifestations in the creature's physical condition; a slight tremor of his hands that was beginning to become common-place. Neither himself nor the potions master had remarked upon it, hoping to leave the elf with the few scraps of dignity he had left but it was only a matter of time.

"I need to brew a fresh batch of potions for the fool, he told me tonight that he had run out again." Snape turned on his heels, his steps as fluid as they had been all those years ago when he'd attended Hogwarts. "I will come and check on him in a hours time. I would not want your incompetence to kill my servant, Longbottom."

"Yes, Professor." Neville grinned, as he glided from the room with a swish. Snape would probably be up half the night brewing the potion, it had to be stirred twice every half an hour counter clockwise or it would curdle and become an unsavory shade of green.

Dobby would not ask for the potion if he knew that only ten days of it took nearly six hours to brew, but Snape had kept that a secret by only brewing after he had retired to bed. When he had mentioned the fact of his kindness four months ago, after his return, Snape had informed him in his most snaky voice that potions were best brew in the moonlight and he would of knew that if he bothered to pay attention during potions. He had never known a better welcome home.

Dobby was probably fast asleep by now, Neville thought to himself, as he replaced the final dish. He could slip in unnoticed, without scaring the little house elf as he had done only once before. A mistake he would've given anything to take away, when he saw Dobby flashing back into the past. The only hint of what he had been through, and still sometimes haunted those large goggle like eyes.

"NO! Dobby has been quiet, he barely breaths. Dobby has even punished himself for speaking, sirs!" The high pitch squeal had ripped through the quiet mansion, breaking the silence that had settled in a nice nook for the night. "Dobby has been good."

"Dobby, it's okay. It's Neville."

"NO! Dobby has been good, he has done everything Master Malfoy has asked of him!" Dobby shrieked from the corner of the room, trying to pull himself into a tighter ball. "Dobby has been good."

"LONGBOTTOM!" Snape's voice was shrill as he pushed past him, his eyes held all the hate he had feared through the years of his Hogwarts life. "What happened?"

"I…I…" The words would not come as he saw the poor creature cower in the corner of the room. "I just came into the room."

Snape eyes burned into him before he turned on his heels. "Get out." The man had hissed, pulling several vials from his robe. "OUT LONGBOTTOM!"

Neville slowly pushed against the large door, thanking himself for putting a silencing charm on it. "Dobby." He whispered, making sure that he would know he was entering just in case he was still awake.

The room was small, with only four possessions that Snape had insisted that Dobby possess. A small lumination lamp that remained lit at all times, a small mattress that Dobby refused to allow a frame for, a woolen blanket, and a small box that would contain his potions. Neville shuffled forward, as the soft wheezed of the elf whispered through the room.

Dobby was curled under the blanket, clutching the excess of it to his chest. His eyes were squeezed shut, as if he was trying to hide from something. It was a expression that Dobby had wore since the nightmares had fallen away from Snape spiked medicine.

"Mmmm." The house elf moaned, pulling himself into a tighter ball. His face was scrunched as he whimpered into his thin arms. "Dobby is good."

Neville felt a sadness seep into him as he watched the tortured elf twitch, shaking hands gripping the blanket to his chest.

"Yes, Dobby is good." Neville whispered, taking soft steps forward. He was thankful for the gracefully movements his body had taken on since he was student, before he would of surely fallen on the defenseless Dobby if not. "Dobby is very good."

"Dobby is good." Dobby whimpered, his sleeping voice full of tears.

"Yes." Neville knelt beside the small child sized bed, his hand gently touching the wide head. "Dobby is good." He would have never have dreamed petting a house elf when he was younger, he thought they would surely have taken it as a insult but Dobby had taken to it when he was ill. Sometimes he thought that the gentle petting was the only thing that kept him alive. "Dobby is very very good."

Neville let his fingers trace over the large head, watching as Dobby's shaking slowed and face fell into tightly squeezed eyes. A depressed smile settled on his lips, as he let his fingers lift from the gray skin. He should probably offer to help Snape with his potions; Dobby must have been out for much longer then today. The potion would have not allow dreams to enter the poor elf's mind for three days after ingestion.

"Longbottom." Snape's voice hissed from the door of Dobby's room, making Neville smirk to himself. His former professor always seemed to know his mind before even he did.

"Yes?" He whispered, moving to his feet with enough grace to impress even the master of such. His eyes thinned as he saw the weakened slump of Snape's shoulder. "Severus?"

Snape face was tight, bony fingers clutching so tightly to his arm they were white. "The Master is calling."


	5. And Then There Were Two

"Bloody hell." Draco breathed, trying his best to conceal himself behind the thick Hogwart's banister. High, ear-piercing screeches filled the hall, growing louder with each passing second. They were probably on the second floor by now. He could feel them pressing against his mind like a cloud, the only concession the creatures allowed whenever they were near. It was only a matter of time before those spawns of darkness felt him as well. They were coming to feed, beckoning him with their magic, trying to seduce his very soul. There was nothing left to do but fight. He could do at least that for Hermione -- "For Harry."

The stairs beneath his feet gave a loud grumble; the crumbling building still trying to appease the creatures within its walls. It's movements were jerky, tainted magic managing to do what time had not, causing his head bump against the solid rock of the banister.

"Bugger it." He muttered to himself, the magic strengthening their grip upon him. He would not cower here, as he had done over and over within his nightmares. "Wankers, up here!"

Draco cringed as he felt their grip lock upon him fully, his mind gripping onto the only thought that was truly not happy nor sad: save Hermione and Harry. That had become his only purpose for now. If he was able to hold their attention long enough, they would be able to escape before being noticed.

"Please hurry, Hermione." He whispered in the dark, a wave of nausea sweeping through his body. The black of their approaching cloaks began an odd dance around the creaking staircase. "Expecto Patronum!" The words seemed to go on forever, the light illuminating even the darkest corners of the castle.

Draco felt his mind grip upon Hermione and their future savior, whom would return happiness to a world devoid of such simple pleasures. A savoir who would fight and win the siege that threatened to engulf even the muggles as the days drifted past. His life was worth that, even if he would never see its return.

"MALFOY DOWN!" Draco's mind didn't have time to react as a body slammed into his side just before the bright explosion. "Miss us Malfoy?"

"Get off me, Weasley." Draco sneered up at 'his' savior; The bright mat of red hair and mischievous smirking boy covering him.

"Fred hurry, they're coming back soon and they'll be bloody pissed. We only brought one."

"You heard George." Draco felt a sharp pain of anger dripping at the back of his mind as he was dragged to his feet. "So, move that shapely arse of yours."

"Piss off, you gits."

"Now, ferret face, is that anyway to speak to your saviors?" George purred, waving for them to follow. "Most would be asking how they could ever repay the debt."

"I'd say a nice long snog would be quite sufficient." Fred chimed in, gripping Draco's waist to increase the blondes movements.

"Not on your bloody life." Draco snapped, trying to push the octopus away from his side. "What in the buggering bollocks are you doing here anyhow, Weasley?"

"Wanted to get a peek at you wanking." George called, kicking at the wall beside one of the few paintings still remaining within the castle. The little girl's face showed no signs of the once playful nature it had had, but now seemed no more than a muggle painting. "Can't get a clear view with our cameras."

"Weasley." He hissed, the wall giving way to a small tunnel. George was first as he pushed away a few stray spider webs clinging to the bricks. "Get your bloody hands off my arse Fred, or, so help me, you will not get them back."

Fred's hand pushed at his backside as they crammed themselves into the tunnel. The tunnel was too tight to stand, forcing all three to their hands and knees.

"I just don't want to lose you." Fred replied innocently, his hand squeezing gently as he pushed harder against him. "After all, you never used these paths."

"Next time, I'm in back." George pouted into the pitch black of the tunnel.

"The bugger you are." Fred sighed cheerfully, putting even more pressure on Draco's ass. "You wouldn't know how to handle this side, anyway. Bit too wild for your tastes."

"You're one to talk." George groused, his crawl stopping and making a disgruntled Draco run into the very part they were speaking of on himself.

"Perhaps you're right, there are advantages to this side." Fred said smugly, as Malfoy tried his best to crawl back without pushing harder into the fondling hand. He was going to kill Her…

"Hermione." Draco mind snapped into focus, his thoughts whirling back to her. She had only a few minutes to escape; what if she had not made it to the forest? What if she was being surrounded by the creatures right now?

She no longer used port keys. They held a chilling reminder of how she had nearly died; a tainted port key delivering her into the middle of a Deatheater battle. "We need to help Hermione."

"Where is she?" Fred and George questioned in unison, their crawling doubling in speed.

"Hopefully in the forest by now." Draco whispered, wincing at the screech echoing on the other side of the wall. He hoped that was a good sign, they were hunting the castle instead of the grounds.

"Good, we wanted to test the other crystals as well." Fred said, mischievously. "The Patronus crystal just isn't as big as the others. We have one that literally melts the--"

"You can't use magic in the forest." Draco snapped, his head continually bumping into Fred's backside in such a way that he had to wonder if it was done purposefully. "And hurry the bloody hell up."

"We're almost there, O' impatient but shapely arsed one." Fred laughed, his hand cupping him more fully and squeezing. "And, don't worry your pretty little head, nothing will come near us when the crystals start flying."

"Fuck it all you wankers! Harry is with her." Draco snapped, getting tired of their insistent rambling.

"Harry, who?" George asked as they came to a stop. "Are you trying to replace us, Draco?"

"Because, we're not going to let you--"

"POTTER, YOU GITS!"


	6. Into The Deep

"Harry please, just hold on. Just hold on, we're almost there." Hermione grunted, pulling the half conscious wizard toward Hagrid's old hut. She had nearly sobbed seeing the old shack, a place that had become their sanctuary over their childhood years. "Just a few more steps."

Her feet felt of lead as the Dementors pressed against her mind, feeding off all her hopes and happiness. All she had to do is go up the steps, open the door and then everything would be okay. Harry would be safe.

"Hermione." The words gargled through Harry's lips, causing the sway the Dementors possessed lessen. Her legs struggled up each step, Harry's own attempts to try to find his feet making the climb all that more difficult.

"Hurry, 'Mione, please hurry."

A cry strangled escaped from her lips at the use of her old nickname. Everything seemed to center around that knob, the distant sound of screeching echoing through the grounds. The creatures would be coming for them soon. She needed to get them inside. She needed to turn that knob. "Hold on Harry, it'll be okay."

The door flew open, a pang of sadness ripping through her at seeing that it was only her hand and not Hagrid on the other side. She tugged at the sluggish body at her side until she was able to slam the door shut, clicking the long ago rusted lock into place.

Harry slumped further into her as he gave up on all hope of finding his bearings.

"Don't worry Harry, we're safe." She whispered, praying fervently that this was close enough to the Forbidden Forest to keep them at bay. "We're safe."

"Safe?"

"Yes, we're in…" Hermione couldn't bring herself to utter his name, fore even after all this time, she could still see him as fresh in her mind as she had then. "We're safe."

The hut was still the same; all that was missing was a gentle giant and his slobbery hound. She clung tighter to Harry, dragging the boy to the bed nearly double his length. Dust clung to the covers as they never had in the times she had entered before; confirming the lack of owner. Hermione swallowed, gently depositing Harry upon it.

"Hermione?"

"I'm here, Harry." She cooed, running her fingers over his forehead.

"Tell Ron he owes me 2 chocolate frogs."

Hermione couldn't hold back the choked sob as she continued to pet the younger boy's head. "Sure Harry." Tears brimmed on her lashes, the boy whom had died for her so long ago snuggled into the passed gamekeepers bed.

**-**  
"Harry, you're going to fail."

"Hermione, this is my last year. Do you think Snape will really fail me? He wants me out of school as much as I do." Harry laughed, leaning against the rail of stairs. "Besides, I studied. Some."

"Three hours of you and Ron arguing about Qudditich does not count as studying."

"Hermione, we weren't arguing. Ron was simply saying that the Bigonville Bombers seeker was better than the Chudley Cannons, and I was simply correcting him. I can't help that he didn't want to admit it."

"You're going to fail." Hermione sighed, the staircase shifting beside them.

Harry quirked a smile in her direction, reaching up to rub his forehead. "Harry, maybe you should see Dumbledore about the burning. Ron said that you haven't been sleeping, it been hurting so bad."

"It's nothing, really." Harry sighed, letting his hand drop to his side. "I can't run to Dumbledore every time my scar hurts."

"Harry its gotten worse." Hermione frowned, casting Harry her most disapproving look. "Ron told me about you collapsing last night. You need to tell Dumbledore at least…" She eyes grew huge, watching Harry clutching his head again. "Harry…"

"NO, PLEASE!" A scream echoed through the halls, making both Harry and herself jump.

"What was that?" Hermione whispered, looking back at Harry, whose wand was at the ready. She scanned down the stairs, her eyes narrowing as a shift of robe came into sight.

"HERMIONE MOVE!" Her body slammed into the wall as the scream of curses boomed behind her head. The charge of magic prickled the back of her neck as she hurriedly searched through her robes for her wand.

"POTTER!" The wand seemed to weigh a million pounds in her fingers as she raised it at the already fallen Deatheater on the stairs before her.

"Miss Granger." Hermione spun on her heels as she was shoved behind the black robes of Professor Severus Snape. "Stay behind me." Her hands clutched the small wand in her hand as she heard several deep voices scream unforgivable curses through the halls of Hogwarts. "Crucio!"

A shiver ran down her spine as the deep belt of Snape's voice ripped through all of the sounds, repeating counter curses over and over again. She pushed herself further into the robes, the entire castle seeming to fill with a hate that she had never felt in her life. It terrified her; made her wish that she could wake from this hellish dream.

"AVADA KEDAVARA!"

Hermione squeezed her eyes shut, her fingers tangling into the soft black material before her. "Wake up, Hermione. Wake up."

"Miss Granger." Hermione forced away the voice, it was all a dream. "MISS GRANGER!"

Hermione mind scrambled as her body was shook so violently, she was sure that the ache in her neck couldn't happen in a dream. "Professor?" She whispered, blinking at a pale Snape.

"Yes." The words were shallow, as she tried to push away from his arms. "Where's Harry?"

"Do not worry about that now Miss Granger, we must…"

"H..H..Haaarrry." Ron's voice trembled behind the black wall of Snape, making the man spin to look.

"Weasley, don't."

Hermione felt a chill run down her back, seeing the tears flooding Ron's cherry red face. "NO, HAAARRRY NO!"

"No, No." She whimpered, trying to shuffle backwards on the stairs but her robes caught her feet. "NO!"

"MISS GRANGER!" Snape arm shot out as her body tilted backwards. His robes swirled enough to show the hand dangling over the top step. The phoenix wand still clutched in his hand, as everything fell into darkness.

**-**  
"Harry, I'm... I'm sorry. I should of made you go to Dumbledore but…" Hermione throat constricted, her fingers petting his soft black hair. She knew that Harry's scar had been hurting, but she didn't do anything. "I'm sorry."


	7. The Tangled Woods

The Forbidden Forest felt lifeless; dead and dying flora and fauna mute testimony to the toll this world had taken over the eleven years of constant battle. It was as though the very scythe of death was there, sharp and glistening, waiting in the shadows to claim its next hapless victim. Draco shivered, nervously shuffling over thick over-grown tangles of tree roots, trying to keep his eyes from focusing on any one thing longer than a moment.

The two red head fools in front of him were making it seem all the more like a death march. Both of them having long since fallen silent after he had mentioned Potter's name. They incessantly cast withering looks over their shoulders, a sure sign that meant he was due for a few Weasley creations in his food and/or bed.

"Where do you think Hermione went?" George murmured quietly, pushing aside a web of low hanging vines from their path.

"She couldn't have gotten far. The bloody forest doesn't allow quick travel through it."

Draco didn't ask how they knew that, he wasn't sure he wanted to know. Instead, he continued to look out across the mass of trees, alternating between looking for Hermione and any signs of danger. "You don't think they were captured, do you?"

Draco knew all to well that where Dementors roamed, Deatheaters were not far behind. Whoever or whatever not claimed by the creatures would be helpless to the Deatheaters, who would take great delight in torturing them. Death would be a welcome retreat for either side.

"No, Dementors are the only creatures that still return to the ruins." Fred whispered, voice and posture taunt with restraint.

"Habitual blighters that they are." George muttered, disgustedly.

"They feed off of the castle after nightfall." Fred explained, grimacing at the high pitched shrieks in the distance.

"Which is why you and 'Mione should of never returned!" George snapped, turning on Draco then. His eyes blazed with a ferocity that Draco was rarely on the receiving end of. "Both Fred and I have warned…"

"W…we had too." Malfoy choked, frowning at the fact that he sounded like a child being scolded. "We had to come. This would be the last chance that…" He fell silent then, knowing Hermione had made him swear an oath not to tell.

Both red haired wizards had stopped by now, looking at him with mirroring expressions of incredulity. Draco swallowed, damning himself twice the fool for saying too much.

"We would not have been able to bring Harry back if we did not come." He said eventually, nerves fraying slightly around the edges when a familiar screech echoed in the background.

"Draco." Fred started before shaking his head with a sigh. His eyes scanned around the distant woods before coming back to land on Draco's. "Let's just find Hermione."

George nodded, expression, as always, identical to his twins. They both spoke of anger, desperation and…pity.

Draco snarled, stalking past them both, nearly making George fall over a bulging root. Damn Potter had only been back for an hour and he was already making his life a living hell! "Fine! Don't believe me! Tossers!"

"Draco." George snapped, watching the blonde stalk up the steep hill in front of the them. "Don't…"

"Leave me alone." Draco snarled again, hiking up the hill.

"Draco, don't get so far ahead of us." Fred warned, following up behind the blonde as quickly as the overgrown wood would allow. He ignored him.

"Hermione!" He bellowed, ignoring the bickering behind him.

"Draco, don't be such an arse!" George yelled, staring up at the stomping man as he too, scrambled up the incline. "Come on and…"

"Oh, Oh I'm the prat…"

"Arse." Fred corrected, nearly tripping over a thick root.

Draco pulled out his wand, pointing it at the red headed Weasley's. He took perverse pleasure in the twined shocked expressions. "If you prats…"

"Draco." George stumbled backwards, nearly snagging himself in the a maze of vines.

"Draco." Fred breathed, his eyes widening momentarily before narrowing. "You don't want to..."

Malfoy smirked satisfied, watching the sudden terror gracing their faces. "No, I…" His triumphed turned to shock as Fred tackled him to the ground.

"GEORGE!" Fred screamed, holding down the twitching captive.

"Get off me you…" Draco voice gave out, seeing a huge bloody mass of hair and legs fall beside their heads.

"Hurry!" Fred pushed himself up, pulling the smaller man along with him. Draco nearly shrieked in horror seeing the mammoth sized spider curled up on the ground.

"RUN!" George screamed from the bottom of the hill, crystal at the ready.

"Move." Were Fred's only words, as he yanked the blonde downhill. Draco tried to keep his footing, rushing forward, George hurling a yellow crystal over them.

Draco let out a yelp as his robe yanked him backwards. "DRACO!" Fred shouted, turning in time to see the young blonde hit the root infested hill.

Malfoy felt as though his head had been cracked open. He opened his eyes blearily, pausing only long enough to look at the unforgiving root his head collided with. He blinked, staring up at a terrified Fred, who was urgently yanking at his robes. "Fred?"

"Don't worry." Fred cooed shakily, pulling at the thick material. Draco felt confusion cloud his head, wondering why the red head seemed in such a panic.

Fred eyes turned to the hill, watching the line of spiders filling the hill. The insects were probably one of the few creatures that could survive the forest. Another danger to keep most at bay.

"Just take it off!" George roared, throwing another crystal over their heads, trying desperately to keep the carnivorous monsters away.

Draco jerked, terror seeping through him upon seeing what Fred was looking at. An entire nest of spiders, most bigger then the one that had fallen dead by his side. "Throw the fucking crystals!" He screamed, pulling himself free of the robe to sprint past the pair of Weasley's.


	8. Death's Toll

Gelatinous lavender muck drizzled down from the ceiling, leaving a brilliant purple skin veneered across any surface it touched. Hermione Granger couldn't help but blanche, peering dubiously at the window covered with the dense hide. It appeared uncannily similar to one of Neville's feeble attempts at a healing salve, which usually ate through a thick bottomed cauldron and part of Snape's desk.

Pinching her lips in disgust, Hermione began digging her nails into the unsavory purple gunk, moon-shaped crescents gurgling wetly. The plum colored blob suckled itself tighter to the window, oozing a slippery wax film from it's sides.

Hermione curled her lips watching it flow freely over her fingers .

Professor Sprout had taught them about this particular fungus after the forest trees had been infected by it. 'Purpurrotes Schleichen' fungus; First discovered in Germany by a unknown wizard. Considered to be sister fungus to 'Crawl Verde' only regional to Italy. The only way to remove it was manually, something of which had, at the time, been fascinating but now was only a hindrance.

Hermione rubbed her fingers together, smoothing the oily substance between her fingers before yanking fiercely at a large clump. Within seconds it released from the window's view with a unsettling pop. Swallowing loudly, the witch watched it flip about within her grasp before drooping jingly to the floor.  
"Ugh." Releasing her grip, Hermione took a quick step back, watching as the fungus dropped to the ground in a sickening slush. Only small splotches of violet struck her as it bounced gently.

"Disgusting." Crinkling her nose in revulsion, she rubbed her stained fingers on the faded-threadbare curtains still hanging stubbornly by the window side. The last thing she needed was for the fungus to leech itself onto her robes more than it already was. After a few moments of scrapping the stiff material against her hands, she gave up with a small huff of dissatisfaction. She would need to spell away the discoloration on her fingers later.

"AAAAAAAAAAAA!" The Dementors high pitch symphony grew more numerous, drawing Hermione's attention to the small patch of window. It was streaked with wiggly gummy clumps, leaving her with the minimum view outside but it was a view that she couldn't help but be thankful for. Squinting through the mass of substance she was barely able to make out Hogwarts crumbling walls.

A quake ran down her spine as she caught a glimpse of the hovering shadows roaming around the desolate school. Each never moved more than a few feet away from the building; screeches piercing even at this distance. It was a sound that reminded her of the years they had hidden from these creatures, after Azkaban had been destroyed. The hell-spawned predators had swept across the wizarding world en masse, seeking any prey they could find. A fact of which the reigning Deatheaters had taken advantage of.

For years they captured the remaining Phoenix's' and the newly formed and honorary named Evans, Blacks, and Potters as sacrifices to these ghastly beasts. They had all taken their share of losses but none as great as Dumbledore's Army, only kept thriving by Ron until his...  
Hermione shook her head, taking a quick glance back to the bed, watching only long enough to see the raise and fall of the young man's chest before turning back. She could barely begin to fathom what Harry would feel when she told him what had become of the wizarding world. Her own damaged soul and the horrors she had seen and lived through were enough to keep her waking nightly, shaking in terror.

But then, who wasn't plagued by images of their past? Every Phoenix had a nightmare that haunted them, that swallowed their happiness more efficiently than any Dementors every could. "It's just another part of being a Phoenix." Malfoy had informed her after he had woken her from a nightmare one night.

A sharp pain suffused her heart as she thought of Draco and his fate at this very moment. Malfoy was a cocky pillock at times, it was true, but he had proved himself a true comrade time and time again. Perhaps that was why he seemed such a wise choice for Harry's regeneration. He understood pain and suffering but most of all, he seemed to be the only person whom could understand what his rising would mean to the wizarding world; what could still be restored. Who remembered what good times were and was not so broken by the wars to forget what truly mattered.  
After Harry had fell, it had left numerous witches and wizards fleeing the rising wrath of Voldermort. Many were persuaded to evil, hoping to spare their families by taking the dark mark. They left themselves with no hope; sons and daughters growing in darkness.

Many good families had fallen into the darkness, destroying themselves with Voldermort's vile demands. Even she could feel the taint of blossoming darkness within herself; all those deaths by her hands had leaving a burning knot of evil. Pulling her wand out and rubbing the smooth texture, Hermione swallowed, feeling all the power within.  
So many had fallen before her; those she had once called friends and many more who would never have the chance. It made her feel savagely bitter, knowing that she had been forced to this. That they all had been forced to this.

"'Mione?" Harry's soft voice floated through the tiny cottage, making her start. "What happened to them?"

"Harry…" Hermione hastily tucked her wand into her robes, suddenly feeling oddly shamed for dwelling on herself when she should have been keeping watch over her friend. Jerking away from the window, she masked the thoughts hovering in her head before forcing a smile. "You should be sleeping. Once dawn comes, we'll need to get you out of here."  
"What happen to the Order, 'Moine?" Harry whispered, slowly sitting upon the edge of the huge bed, eyes downcast at the dingy wood floor. "Our order."

The slump of his shoulders were mute testimony of the pain that he was burning inside. It was a pain that she wished almost desperately to take from his young mind, a fact for which she couldn't have understood years ago.

"Why didn't they stop it?"

Pressing her lips together to keep them from quivering, Hermione turned from him, eyes peering back out through the dank little window. Silence stretched across the room like a poison, only making the words harder. She shuddered, listening to the distance squeal of Dementors. Finally, voice cracking, hand roughly massaging her wand through her woolen robs, she spoke, "They where too late." She swallowed. "The attack was unplanned, a fact that was our undoing."

Harry looked up upon hearing the soft whimper his friend made . Tears slid down Hermione's cheeks though it was obvious she tried to pretend they weren't there. Her lips quivered slightly before she continued, "By the time they arrived, nearly sixty percent of us had perished. The numbers would have been greater if not for our Order."

Harry's heart screamed with disbelief, wishing that he could bring himself to believe she was lying. How could this be true? They couldn't have gotten past Dumbledore. It wasn't suppose to be possible. "How did they get past Hogwarts defenses? Dumbledore?"

Hermione glanced at him, her face flashing pain before abruptly turning back to the window, a shaky hand coming up to wipe dripping tears from her cheeks. "That is something that we all wonder."

Hermione is - was - is a terrible liar.

"'Mione." His voice was hard, sharp enough to make her blanche at the harsh tone, but she didn't turn to him. Instead, her shoulders slumped in a defeat, something that happened so rarely where she was concerned.  
"Harry, there are so many things that I can tell you but that is one I will not...cannot share." Harry felt betrayal bubbling in him, she always told him everything. How could she not tell him this? "Don't look at me like that, Harry."

"'Mione, how do you expect me not too?" Harry whispered, drawing on the last of the strength he reserved, wanting only to find the answers he craved. "Hogwarts was guarded to defend itself and those within against dark magic. You told me so yourself. Even if the attack had been unplanned, how could they of gotten past?"

"Harry, I can't tell you." She whimpered, wiping tears from her cheek rapidly.

"Why?" Harry whispered again, the sound more powerful than any shout ever could be. "Why can't you tell me? We share everything 'Mione, why is this so different?"

"Because it doesn't matter anymore." Hermione's face pinched, watching Harry collapse back into the bed. "All that matters is...you're back."

"Why me? Why now?" He murmured, his voice lowering in exhaustion. His body ached from the effort of even breathing, his head slumped forward to his hands. "What could I do now?" Tear of exhaustion, pain, and misery intermingled on his fingers. "Why not Sirius, or McGonagall, or even Hagrid?" Harry looked past his fingers, a excruciating pounding spilling into his chest. "Why not my parents?"

"Because the power was not meant for them." Hermione voice was somber, her hand massaging her wand nervously. Her eyes flicked back to the window to keep watch over the dancing shadows. Their screeches were growing riotous.

The exhausted boy stiffened, lifting his head to see the ridge posture of Hermione. 'Either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives.' Harry closed his eyes; he had not died at the hand of Voldermort. That is why he was brought back, because the prophecy had not been fulfilled. "A Deatheater killed me, that's why I was brought back. I was suppose to kill Voldermort?"

"That's not the power that I'm talking about." Her voice quivered roughly, making her words barely understandable. She was trying to push the emotions away, but they heaped themselves on her till her lungs hurt for breath.

"What power then?"

A sob choked Hermione before she swallowed it away, steeling herself to the name she had not spoken in six years. "Dumbledore's."


	9. Behind Blue Eyes

The nauseating smell of burning ozone, rancid bodies, and sorrow clung to the fresh evening wind. Warning the prison occupants of the oncoming darkness that would entomb them inside their cells of death.

"Boy." The hoarsely choked word seemed exotic, in this place of bereavement. "Nightfall is coming."

Watery blue eyes blinked up from the curled position that the owner had been sleeping in only moments before. Nightfall was not a time for rest, instead one must stay ever alert till the sun painted the cell walls again.

"Lad, get up." Whimpers slipped from the malnourished man-child, pulling himself into a tighter ball. His blue eyes squeezed shut, trying to shut out the desolate cell. Sometimes it would be your only sanity, ignoring the magical encrusted void. "Boy."

"Please." He sniveled, looking through his lashes up at the man shackled across the cell. Body withered showing chest bones outlined by skin, muscles eaten away by months of starvation. His arms covered with blood, rashes, and disease that scared the young man to look at. "I don't want to."

"BOY!" The man hissed, the chains rattling loudly in the lair of stillness. His eyes blinking wildly, trying to fight the ache of the slipping sun. Retracting from the cell with unnatural speed. "Get the stick."

The last of the sun dripped from the cell, leaving nothing but shadows. Each dancing with wicked plans, aiming for their latest torment. Screams split through the air, making the curled boy quiver in terror. It was not a uncommon sound, but never failed to shake the bravest souls. "No." Defiance intermingled with denial in his voice, even as the chill turned bitter within the cell.

"Son, the change is going to be upon me soon, and the beast will need to feed." Nightfall was only moments away at best, leaving them in a limbo of seconds.

"No…no."

Loud clanks of metal made quake run down the boy's spine. The last change had damaged the chains, the bolts were not going to hold tonight. The night they both had dreaded, leaving his only protection a branch that was nearly rotted away with time. "Boy, get the stick before the change takes me."

"I…I can't."

"Boy…please." Tears slipped down his cheeks, feeling the first ripple of change. It had grown more painful, more torturous then the last. He would be lucky if he survived the transformation back this time, but he would not wish it if the chains gave way. The beast would not care about the young man; he would not know that he has been the only reason it was able to survive.

"I'm scared." Breathed the boy into the darkness, tears slipping from every word. "What if you try to k…kill me?"

"I can hold it back till you get the stick, but once the beast is free…" A scream of agony cut off any further instructions, making the boy scurry into the corner of the cell. His back pushed against the wall, till his shoulder blades throbbed from the digging cement blocks.

The pale white light of the moon sliced through the darkness, illuminating the two occupants. Shackled body hanging limping, looking more dead then alive. The other, trying his best to become one of the dancing shadows.

"Get the stick." Whimpered the man, before convulsing forward. Ribs jutted out till the boy wondered if the paper thin flesh would shred from the pressure. The soft sound of cement crumbling, and strained breathing mixed together like a odd old melody. "Please."

Blue eyes flickered to the other end of the cell, where the blacken two foot stick sat half covered by dirt. "I…I…" The shackled man was too far gone, his body jerking wildly. His mind probably half gone from the pain.

The moonlight filtered in, till it glowed off the silver cuffs, strangely polished in the filth. The pale skin of the man sparkling within it, before bubbling into life. "AHHH!" Watching in fascinated horror the boy saw the beast forming within the weaken chains. "AHHH!"

The werewolf body was not thick with muscles as it had been, instead it had thinned to wiry limbs. It's fur was stripped away in large clumps, leaving mounds of sores to puss thick yellow goo. A predators glare captured in its eyes; nose sniffing the air.

His body pulsed, pushing off the wall; knowing that it could be loose soon. If it used the last of Lupin's strength, then it would rip his throat out before the dawn. He bundled the last of his courage, trying his best not to ignore the watchful eyes. To not watch the billowing clouds of warm breath fluttering from the beast in quick pants.

It growled quietly, making his stomach clench with alarm. He pushed his body flush against the opposite wall, trying to keep distance from it's ripping claws. "GRRR!" The creature yanked wildly at its bounds, making the boy jump forward to clutch onto the stick. Fingers digging into the stick till it creaked from the force.

"Lupin." He whispered, feeling terror from the very man who had protected him from the hands of Voldist. Taking beatings with hands, creatures, and magic for him.

Drool foamed on it's muzzle, dripping down into the dirt clumped chest fur. Eyes glowing in the moon's shine in a eerie blue hue. No longer was the man within him, but the curse that had entrenched it self into Lupin's soul.

If the wall gave away, he would be forced to hurt, or even kill the man who had become his only family. Something that would of given him pleasure nearly four years ago, but now only sent tremors of sickness through him. He would not survive without him. Never again would he breath air untainted with pain, or heartache. Instead he would be forever stuck within a purgatory; roaming the halls with his damaged soul just like the others. Entombed within shadows, till his very soul dissolved into the pain of nothingness.


	10. Dumbledore's Power

"We could of never of accomplished your renewal if not for him. I only wish he could have…lived to see it." The words saturated the space in the small hut with anguish far beyond anything that Harry had known before. Hermione sat slumped, eyes blinking rapidly to fight the fresh batch of tears. She had wanted to wait till Harry was stronger before telling him of their former headmaster's passing. Protect his already battered body, from further distress.

Chasms of pain erupted themselves through Harry's soul, licking at his heart till it lay raw within his chest. Dumbledore had died, he had not lived to protect the man who was more father then teacher. Dumbledore was the only man who would ever help him defeat the evil that had destroyed him.

In those moments, he felt the small nibbling of power threatening to cocoon his own power. A power which would of constrained him if it was not his own...but it wasn't. Inside was a strength that he had watched in the only person Voldermort feared. It coursed through his veins, vibrating energy through the entire hut.

Had Dumbledore given his life to resurrect him, his magical being for Harry? "How…" He wasn't able to force further words past his constricted throat. Even the sob that broke him was silenced through his taunt vocal chords.

"It is said that he was fallen by Voldermort." The words were spoken with such heartbroken distain; making the cloak of anguish thickens its weave. Hermione didn't hide her flinch, or the fear in her voice of even mentioning Voldermort's name.

Hermione had gone through great pains to hide such behavior when mentioning He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. A change that he had taken great comfort in; allowing him to speak freely to her of thing he dare not mention to others. Now, it seemed more like a weight on his body, dragging down his magical barriers allowing easier access to the foreign powers.

"When?" Fiery hot wax coated his heart, blistering away the flesh beneath. Harry wanted only to escape, to be released from the burning within in his soul. The newly appointed strength making it more vivid in his mind; replacing the scared flesh with its own steel. He needed to stand, falter the course till he could grip upon it.

Taut wool of the blanket burrowed into his palms; his ankles twisting beneath him like melting rubber. Tears pooled across his eyes, while his arms refused to move him further then an inch off the solid hay mattress.

"Six years ago." Hermione didn't see Harry's struggle, trapped within her waking nightmares. The memories of times she had pushed so far within her, till they were not even a blurred dream. "At least that is our best guess."

"Guess?" He shook violently, chills goose bumping his struggling body. The question coming from the only part of his mind working, that had not been shattered by Hermione's declaration.

Her heart raced, remembering the last memory of the gray bearded man. "We had just arrived, after a recovering several Evan's from the Azkaban prison."

"Evan's?" Icy bitterness collected in the soles of Harry's feet, hearing his mother's maiden name. He let his hands hang limply off the edge of the bed, tasting bile that was gagging him.

The young witch blinked out the window, spikes of torment pounded into her spine. Her back pulsed with sensitivity; even her flesh mourned. "Yes." Hermione swallowed, trying to push past the shade of her own pain. Harry deserved to know, the truth was best discussed now before the returned. She wouldn't be able to protect him then, or hide the magical force the emitted from him in cascading waves.


	11. Waiting

The soft black velvet rubbed Neville's neck, a deceptively comforting feeling in robes that caused such dread. He didn't look at the man, who stood silently by his side. They were waiting for an audience with the Order, informed that the Master would not be seeing anyone.

The summons mean only one thing, they were preparing for uprisings. The last raid by the Evan's, nearly killing several members of Voldist had made them apprehensive. Deatheaters had quickly crushed the daring army, killing or capturing all. His only hoped that they would find death quickly, instead of having to endure as he did.

Few would live to have the choice; only a handful would have the sanity left to fight against it. The mind was fleeting with the walls of Pamphilan Dungeons. Pamphila a dark witch, whose power had devastated hundreds, buried on the grounds. She possessed great knowledge of witchcraft, only surpassed by her necromantic wisdom.

Her abilities lending to the earth, seeping into the prisoners like a poison. The limits of life expanded for those tainted, allowing guards the joy of brutal torture on prisoners. The existence within the cells only a shadow of the death, that seemed to be the only escape. Tramped within the walls, the witch's power feasting on your soul. Nibbling on it until your soul was nothing more then shadows.

"Longbottom." Severus's high pitch snarl drew Neville out of his thoughts. "Do not interrupt." Snape's voice, even in warning, was comforting after the hours of silence they had shared preparing.

"I know." He tried to sound detached, even through panic gnawing on him.

Severus mind might have slipped away with age, but his memories were sharp on suffering of the past. "I mean it Longbottom." He snapped, bony fingers clutching onto his pocketed wand.

Neville gazed through his mask to watching the proud ridged Potion's Master. This man had protected him, taught him, and loved him. He would hinder the council, even if it meant he would take the brunt of their power. "Snape…"

"Think of responsibilities." His voice was aloof, even though he heard pleading behind it. Dobby! The small elf knew that if they did not return, he should find refuge in one of the underground tunnels. He could hide there until he was able to escape and find the Blacks, the closest of the forces.

"Of course, Snape." From the sharp stare Severus was offered, his voice had not rang true.

Severus glowered at his masked face at length, studying with very snapish wisdom. "Or I will kill you myself." He growled, turning his attention to several Deatheaters shuffling down the hall.

Neville forced away the smile that edged at his lips, before lowering his head. A threat he would no doubt follow through with, if they both lived. "Of course, Severus."

"Snape." He hissed, narrowing his eyes on the disappearing group. Neville did not bother to hide the grin, feeling the uncomfortable shifting of his former potions professor. The pleasure of it bubbled in his stomach, until he vibrated with it.

Neville squashed down his humor, seeing an unmasked man striding towards them. "Severus Snape." His voice was a deep nasal, matching the rat like appearance. Snape glared at the man, making him shuffle backwards several times before he spoke again. "Follow me."

The rat man shuffled in front of them, not daring to glance back at the confident stride of Snape. "Remember."


	12. Revolts

"After your death, forces were formed. The Evans, The Blacks, and The Potter's; the few who choose to fight against Voldermort."

Harry almost took pleasure in The Black's, knowing Sirius would have taken amusement is the blasphemy of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black. It would probably send Mrs. Black into such a fit; knocking her portrait off the wall at Number 12 Grimmauld Place.

"They fight along side of the Phoenix's, giving their lives to protect against Voldermort, and the Order. The Evans raided after defending a group of Muggles from the fleets of Voldist. They killed six Deatheaters that day…and scarified nearly three times as many." She remembered the smell of dying magic, thick layers of it coating dead bodies. Their eyes still open, kept lifelike from the power that still streamed through them. Hands still white from clutching wands. A sight that would make even the strongest lose their stomach.

"After giving each graves, we decided to retreat to the Black's caves. Apparating was too risky, not with Voldist magic still hanging on survivors. We were going to use the surviving port keys, one of the few safe travels.

Harry lifted his eyes, hearing the sob that wobbled Hermione's body. Her eyes never left the purple-crusted window, but he knew she wasn't seeing it. Memories entrancing her with a past he wished he could of shielded her from.

"What we didn't know is they had survived on purpose." Bitterness shelled her body, making each word quiver with it. "They were tainted, sending us into a Deatheater battle." She clenched her fist around her wand, through thick robes until her fingers ached from the pressure. "Only a few were able to apparate before curses destroyed them."

"We t…tried to protect the Evan's. Dumbledore…" She remembered the tears soaking his gray beard silver, after the Deatheaters fled. The agony of hearing his sobs, while they gathered the dead. Most of them were former students he watched grow, and now were lying lifeless before him. "He fought them off, but there were dozens. Many were too weak to defend themselves. I…I t…t…tried to protect t…them but…"

Harry knew the torment of watching others die, the flash of helplessness while watching Cedric die before his eyes. His stomach burning white hot, with the memory.

Hermione wiped her face furiously, trying to regain composure. Taking several minutes before blinking away her "He was different after that day. Less at peace, disconnected with the world. He grew more so every passing day, till he disappeared six years ago."

"How do you know he died?" No hope leeched onto the words, for he had none left.

"Six years ago, a little after two years since his disappearance, Fawkes came back." The Phoenix arrived, looking like he was about to burst into a thousand tiny flames. It eyes shined with tears, wings battered, and several featherless patches in his dulled red coat. "He brought news, of Dumbledore's death. A note from Dumbledore simply stating, 'I have fallen to the hand of Voldermort. Albus Dumbledore.'"

Harry wanted only to escape, to run back to the world he had known. Where pain only tainted his soul, where it didn't devour the entire of the Wizarding world. A place where Dumbledore was not so broken by death, he still beamed life. Where Hermione didn't seem to be ready to shatter into a thousand pieces.

"A parcel addressed to me, arrived nearly three days later. Opening only when I was alone." Hermione wiped the tears from her face, which now left a wide wet waterfall down the front of her robes. "It was spelled, containing a box addressed to you." She chose not to mention that she had tried to open it, using every spell and several muggle inventions. "His wand, a note to me and a… spell. The one that brought you back to us." She whispered, returning her hand to rub her robed wand.

Harry felt the choke of vomit, knowing that Dumbledore had hopes of him living again. "What was in the box?"

"I don't know." Only the shimmer of Harry's name, whenever she touched it gave her any indication that it was not a solid brick of wood. "Only you can open it."

Battling against the gag that would surely release his stomach, Harry tried to push himself up. He wanted on his feet, to feel the least bit of control return to him and not the power in him.

"He said that he had to leave. Beneath the rubble that was Gringotts, lay a vault that contained magic that could defeat Voldermort." She felt nervousness, thinking of the Goblins still infested within the rubble. Scurrying about, protecting the vaults buried deep within the earth, attacking those who dared to trespass. "He recovered the spell, destroying all others that could be used by the Order of Voldist."

Harry struggled against his own muscles, fighting for control against the weakness that soaked his very soul. Only the power seemed to keep him upright, stiffening his spine with its strength.

"Why did he send his wand?" Dumbledore would not have sent his wand; it could have helped him escape from attack.

"He did not say." Hermione didn't lean on the question long, concentrating instead on pushing the memories back from the white-hot acid to a soft tingling. She could rebury them forever; seal them off now that she had told Harry the truth.

His throat convulsed, forcing his stomach to lurch with a gag. The new magic within him joined the revolt, his stomach clenching until he felt scolding vomit crossing his tongue.

Hermione turned from the window, just in time to see the black rot of food dripping from Harry's tongue. Shocking her forward, until she stood before him. The smell of rotting vomit emitted in great wafts, until Hermione felt nausea. It bubbling from the stomach acid it had been residing in only moments ago. "Harry."

He couldn't stop the gagging, his body falling forward until his knees hit with a loud whack. The feel of warm sickness soaked through his robes, heating his chilled leg.

"Harry! Are you alright?" Hermione choked, touching the small boys head. Terror of losing him again, making her pull her wand. His hands shaking wearily, after nearly a minute of gagging.

"NO!"


	13. The Change

Frightened blue eyes squinted into the moonlight, trying to ignore the magic pressing down on his chest. The change had taken Lupin, causing the surge of magic to shift within with cell. It was not drawn to the werewolf, as it was to his counterpart. Leaving his muggle body to be battered by it till dawn came. Body tingling more with every hour that passed; his lower back and shoulders already tender from the short amount of time.

He wasn't sure which would be worst, killed by Lupin or magical exposure. A common torture method by several of the wizard guards; supernatural pressure bearing down till you submit to oblivion. Butchering organs, reflexes, and vision on its path; pain being your only cushion to death. Each guard's wand had slain at least one in such a way, most of them having more then five filling their plate.

The moon had dragged it's silvery glow across the cell, leaving him to bathe in it. Illumining the small freckles of crystal scattered across the cell ground; a reminder of the torture last week. Lupin had taken the brunt of the crystals, his skin ate away from muscle. Each guards face coloring with anticipation, till the crystals power faulted. They would of probably killed him, more thrilled about their new toy then following orders. A fact that made his stomach clench emptily.

Exhaustion fogged his mind, his arms throbbing from holding the stick at ready for so long. He couldn't concentrate on the torments of last week, especially since this week's experiments had not even taken place. The hours of dreamless sleep were useless if he allowed himself to linger on thoughts ahead or behind. Tonight had to be lived in the now, or else he would die by the light of tomorrow.

Dark sounds of licking, growling and slobber, dripping onto the puddle of drool already form on the ground. Metal clanks growing less, while the astute beast prepared for escape. For it was only a matter of five or six more violent pulls, and the blocks would release its wrath. A fact that the wolf probably already knew. It was waiting for the moment, the second when he was to weak to protect himself.

It would jump on him from the shadows with no warning, ripping out his throat. Of course, if the hunger of the animal was robust enough he would not even have the pleasure of a quick death. Devouring him from the meatiest part of his body, till he either bleed out or the creature got tired of his crying.

The helplessness reminding him of times seeming more a lifetime ago, rather then the fleeting four years. The screaming that would echo through his mind, sobs of begging for life, and the finality of flesh hitting carpet. His mind only uncasing the memories when weakness devoured his soul.

Lupin had been his savor that night, pulling his pathetically crushed body away. He wouldn't have survived, finding his fate with his mother and father. Only a memory, a lump lying on a expensive Persian rug.

Remus had took care of him, cradling him in warmth till he found his voice again. Forcing food into his mouth, bathing away the bed grime, making it okay that he didn't die. He was his sanity, his rock, and his only family. The only thing he lived for anymore.


	14. Finding Harry

Draco clenched his icy fist, trying to control the wheeze of his aching lungs. His throat felt swollen with a tingling burn, making the Malfoy determination deter. His head buzzed with a unfamiliar ache, while the chuckles of the twin pillocks echoed behind him in a cackling manner.

Fred and George seemed unaffected by the forest's leeching effects, instead they skipped happily behind. Twin hands digging within their robes, searching for their 'grander' crystals.

The legion of eight legged monsters had fallen back, leaving only a few stragglers who dreamed of a warm meal of three wizards. Five had meet their doom already, while a few others stumbled along with a few less limbs.

His pants and shirt were stained deep green with gooey spider inners, which smelled worst then they looked. Draco still felt rather nauseous from the spider who guts were still covering him. Fred tossed a crystal that forced heads to sprout from every furry surface till they popped against each other in a moist gurgle. A repulsive sight, which both twins had taken delight in. Fred and George had taken note of the color of that one. Bright orange.

"Come on you bloody pillocks." George growled into the forest, his irritation showing for the lack of eight legged targets to destroy.

Draco frowned at the red headed boy, grinning madly into the distance. "Stop being such a git, ferret face." Fred sighed, throwing his arm around the smaller man.

"Kill one of the hairy lummicks, it will loosen you up." George called, trailing behind them in a excited bounce.

Fred produced a deep red crystal, shimmering with flecks of silver before him. Draco pushed away from the red haired twit, anger sizzling his nerves with their lack of concern.

"'Mione is bloody brilliant." Fred offered, as if he knew exactly how Draco's mind worked. "Plus…"

Draco rubbed his temple, trying to ignore a slight buzz that was echoing in his ears. "Twenty four." A wave of static pushed against him, intensifying the buzzing till the blonde wondered if he was going to get sick from it.

"Twenty five." George screeched, in obvious triumph.

"That doesn't count, that was my crystal you git." Fred barked.

"Harry!"

Draco pivoted on his heels, hearing Hermione's high pitched scream above the twin morons. Their bodies froze mid throw in front of him. Even the stumbling spiders had fallen still, their black shiny eyes twitching.

"'Mione?" Fred breathed, his face pinched in confusion.

Draco sprinted into action, ignoring the way his body protested him. "Hermione." Malfoy bellowed, his throat feeling like a open sore.

He clutched onto his wand, a battle brewing in his mind with each footfall. His reserved magic radiating into the forest in a scared panic, as he pushed himself through clinging veins. Several limbs ripping at him, leaving scrapes across his face and neck. "Hermione!"

"'Mione!" Twin panic filled voices screamed closely behind him, their wands clutched tightly in their hands.

"Hargrid's hut."

Draco sprinted towards the crumbling hobble, a thousand worries flashing through his mind. Hermione was hurt, Potter had attacked her, Dementors.

Malfoy feet hit the cobblestone steps, propelling him towards the door full force. His shoulder hitting the worm eaten door with a loud crack, making him wonder momentarily it was his shoulder blade. The door gave another grumble, before swinging open, slamming against the wall, and falling off its hinges to the floor.

"Granger!" Draco's wand was at the ready, bursting forward with pictures of the worst in his mind. "No!"

The blonde's arm feel limply to his side, taking in the scene before him. Potter hunched forward, a thick bubbling puddle of black rot growing as it poured from his mouth. Harry's shoulder's shaking violently, obvious pain written on his taunt muscle clenching beneath his robe.

The funk hit Draco like a wall- vomit, rotted food, stale magic, but most of all death. It seeped into his lungs, making his body clench in nausea. "Granger?" He gagged, looking at the helpless young woman crouched beside Harry. Her features tight and pale with a edge of sickness building behind it.

"'Mione!" Twin bodies piled into the room, causing Draco farther into the vomit abyss. The growing pool of ebony sludge closing in on his shoes, till he forced himself backwards in fear of vomiting on Potter and Granger.

Harry wheezed helplessly for several minutes, squeezing his eyes shut to avoid staring at the chunks migrating between his fingers. For several moments he contemplated just collapsing into the vomit, before finally pushing himself back against the bed.

His entire body burned with exertion; his lungs felt like liquid nitrogen had been forced into them. His lips and tongue poached, and his face swollen from the pressure. His hands and legs tingled where the vomit had touched, till he scrubbed it away haphazardly with his robe.

Harry slumped against the bed, ignoring the way the splinters poked into his back. "Dying couldn't of been this bad." He mumbled to himself, before wiping the last of the sickness that burned on his lips and chin.

"Harry?"


	15. Before the Council

Blank colorless mask glowed in the dark endless room, only sharp sunken stares gave away their differences. Pale non distinct eyes bore down upon them, their owner dominating his companions with ease.

Lucius Malfoy perched upon a elaborately carved throne of deeply polished mahogany, offsetting his loose strains of milky white hair. His appearance looming in the room like a malicious ghost waiting for a poor mortal to frighten. His decadent robes of silk and velvet flowed around him in a sea of hunter green, showing off his wealth and position.

Malfoy had risen to great power in the Order of Voldist, a Apprentice of the Shadows. His ability to weave lies, and glamour helping him on the path till even Voldermort fell under the influence.

Snape stiff proud posture gave away nothing, making several members shift uncomfortably. The others overzealous enough to glare at the Potion Master quickly averted their attention to the mahogany table rather then stare into Severus's granite stare.

Lucius raised to his feet, a slow flowing gesture that made him seem regal despite the nervous twitching of his fellow members. "Severus Snape." His voice was weak, holding no deep strength that emanated from the looming figure before them.

"Yes." Severus' s deep boom echoed through the room, making several new members flinch at its authority.

Lucius stared at the wizard, his eyes narrowing through the slotted openings. The pulse of Severus's power pressed against the gathered magic, forcing it back at the wizards producing it. Several members gasped under the pressure, their skin tingling uncomfortably.

Neville stood silently behind the power, marveling at the reactions of the fearless Order of Voldist. Their bodies twitching trying to shake off the painful tingle attacking their skin. Several members openly stared in wide eye panic at Lucius, before slumping back in their chair in a exhaustion.

Malfoy body straightened in the magical stronghold, taking away his regal authority. His fingers nervously fumbled within his robes, before producing his long slick wand which had ended the lives of dozens. "You have been away from us for many years." His words were strangled against the magic, which he fought off better then the others.

Neville smirked behind his mask, watching Malfoy tap his wand against his thigh in a silent threat provoking Snape into tightening the magical suppression. Malfoy's eyes bulged in pain, his wand hand falling still beside him. His eyes narrowing in concentration, surging against the power that smothered him. "Perhaps too many." He snarled, before sinking to his chair.

Snape straightened his stance, forcing his built up strength to surge further into the council. Taking a warning step forward, when several members dug in their robes in search of wands. They looked pleading at Malfoy, before slumping back in their chairs in nervous confusion.

Lucius raised his wand above his chest, trying to ward off the pressure thumping on his chest. "We have for many years known of the power used by the dwindling Potter followers." His voice was shallow, far weaker then moments ago.

A few members with enough strength hissed at the name Potter, or perhaps the pain of the magical crush. Neville's spine stiffened seeing the self satisfied smirk written in Lucius's face. His urge to curse the older wizard bubbled in his mind at the memories of the old wizard retelling his kill of the Potter followers.

"We have taken great losses…" The most coherent wizard offered, making Lucius jerk his head at the man. "I…" The nervous young wizard fell silent, seeming to realize his mistake too late. He glanced at Lucius for a moment, before slumping in fear seeing his raised wand. His shoulders shaking in fear, waiting for the death.

Neville felt pity for the young man, his ignorance to speaking out of turn would probably cost him his life. Lucius held no loyalty to those who were below him, and would destroy those above him if he held the power.

Severus's shoulders straightened in a tight line, his power surging further till it felt invasive. "I see."

Malfoy head wiped back to stare at the looming figure, his hair seeming to pale at the power bombarding him. Malfoy's wand twitched in his hand, making Neville consider pulling his wand. Finally, in a defeated exhaustion his thin arm dropped to his lap.

"That is why you have been summoned to us tonight."


	16. Frozen Time

The magical force compressed his chest making the newly blossomed blood blisters explode into rivers of crimson puss. Coppery perfume surged through the moonlit cell with promise of a warm welcoming meal; making tears of frustration and pain prickle his eyes. Blood gurgled against the sores till it leeched dryly against his raw skin.

The beast shimmering eyes stared from the veil of shadows, taking in its prey with hungry lust. Its last meal had been too long ago for it not to drool impatiently. The feel of his canines digging deeply into warm flesh, hot gushes of life fluid filling his mouth tempting it to no end.

Splinters dug into his clenched fist, his only protection against the crazed animal anymore. Years of dry rot made the stick crumble into useless toothpicks in his panicked grip within an hour. "Remus." The former man's name fluttered against his tongue, depleting his lungs wheezed breath.

It was getting harder to breath, his throat swelling with an aching throb till he wondered if he was going to suffocate from lack of air. He drew in a shallow breath wondering if it was blood he was tasted on the back of his tongue.

His body slumped heavily against the grim covered wall, while the room began a slow dance before his eyes. It must have been hours since he had taken a deep breath, or perhaps it had only been minutes. They were too blurred together in his mind until he question if it had always been night.

Moonlight dripped into the cell its fiery glow making tiny freckles of crystal to sparkle. The deep jewel tones making his chest ache with the familiarity of it, reminding him that there were a few moments before this moment. The bright colors reminding him of those jewel-bright curtains his mother had snubbed for years.

The memory of a frown cutting deeply into her features, while she muttered of those living on Little Whinging's were lacking in their sophistication. 'They couldn't ever stand to live in such monumental homes as our street', she would grumble sourly. Her face pinched as if a foul odor had seeped through the air every time they passed the street.

His throat tightened further while he fought back tears of the past. It had been ages since he had lingered on thoughts of her, allowing himself to remember her face with crystal clarity. Her voice that only echoed screams in his head now was soft, and rhythmic.

He stared at the small shards till his eyes burned almost as much as his heart. It was too painful to remember her, to much to bear in this hell. Looking back into the shadows, he saw the beast's eyes catching rays of moonlight, coloring them a vibrant blue.

They reminded him of Lupin's, staring intently at him. Remus's counterpart growled softly, reminding him that it wasn't his cellmate. That it was the beast that would probably devour him before the sun rose again but it somehow brought him peace. He would die but Remus would live to breathe another day. A fact that made it bearable, that made it okay that he would be stuck within these walls till his soul was obliterated into nothingness.

The cold of the cell made his skin numb, making the blisters grow without the sharp bites of pain. It only enhanced the pain in his throat to a new level, making it clench shut for several seconds before he adjusted to the new level of pain. His deprived lungs twitched in him, before filling with only a gasp of air.

The room did a slight jig before his eyes, bouncing about in a jittery happiness that he wished he was part of rather then witness too. He pulled in another gasp of air, even as his lungs seemed to melt in his body.

His legs gave way, dropping him to the ground with a thump. He could feel the tingle of his skin trying to wake up as hot blister puss warmed it. The pain didn't last long; it quickly drifted away into a memory.

Another choked breath came out, making the room take on a strange hue. It made it seem less real, less alive then a moment ago. It made him feel distant, like watching a strange dream form around him. He wondered if this is what death would feel like here.

A streak of light flashed across his eyes; a white that blurred out everything in the dark. He blinked his eyes lethargically thinking perhaps the moonlight had blinded him for a moment. The streak broke instead, scattering into tiny shards of light that spun in odd pirouettes till his stomach lurched in empty clench.

His blue eyes snapped shut, trying to hold the little stomach acid down to avoid scolding his already throbbing throat. Even his eyelids gave him no relief from the demon shards that now danced a demented waltz. They seemed to be laughing at him, their tiny broken pieces puffing up in hysteria.

He opened his eyes, trying to escape their taunting but they only grew voices the more he fought. Each laugh grew in his ears, until he clutched his ears to block out their heckling.

"BIG D!" They screamed, making him lurch with the familiarity of it. A name he had not heard in ages, and still brought a block of ice to the bottom of his stomach. "BIG DDDDDDDDD!" They drawled, making it into a makeshift chant. "BBBBIIIG DDDD!"

"No!" He tried to scream at the shards, but they only grew louder. They spun in wild circles, making him squeeze his eyes shut. His throat was on fire, making him positive it was blood he was tasted at the back of his mouth. "NO, GO AWAY!"

A silence hushed over the room suddenly, each shard dissipating into nothingness behind his lids. He pulled his legs against his chest, blindly, ignoring the way his skin cracked on his knees from the pull. "No, no." He whispered to himself, uncaring that his throat felt ripped apart. He needed to block it out, needed to keep it away.

"Dud?"

"No."

"Dudleykins?"

"No, not real." He choked out, his lungs burning like wildfire. "Not real."

"Dudders?"

"Dudley?" His name was whispered softly in his ear, making his body shake with the familiar voice. "Dudley?"

Dudley Dursley opened his eyes, to see his mother lips pursed and head shaking in the front seat of their long ago car. "Disgusting, not a decent lawn on the street." Petunia Dursley's voice was shrill, Vernon nodded from the drivers side.

"Brings down the neighborhood." Vernon snarled his triple chin quiver with obvious annoyance.

"They stand no chance in the garden show." Petunia sighed, seeming satisfied by the fact.

Dudley stared at his long since passed parents a horror dragging over his mind. No, he couldn't be here, it wasn't possible. He closed his eyes, trying to block out their voices. It wasn't possible.

"Yes, my dearest." Vernon's voice boomed, making Dudley blink open his eyes.

They were too close to where it happened, where everything in his life changed. "Weeds everywhere."

"No." He shook his head, catching sight out the windshield. Trees densely coated the side of the road, blanketing out all light but their headlights. "NO!" His throat wrestled against the word, making it come out in a soft squeal.

"They will never stand a chance against your prize winning flowers, Petunia dearest." His father continued, obviously not hearing his strangled cry.

Dudley squeezed his eyes shut, whimpering in his chest realizing this moment. He had relived this in almost every dream, but never this clearly. It was just the moment of…of…

A loud blare of horn echoed behind his head, the soft flickering of lights flashing even behind his eyelids. Tires squealing against pavement; the crunch of metal against metal. Even at the fast movements, it seemed like an eternity to the backseat passenger.

"VERNON!" His mother's high pitched scream startled his eyes open, making him blink at the overwhelming brightness of lights. It lit the car adding odd color to his mother's panic stricken face.

It was happening…it was happening again even after all these years. Dudley felt numb, limply leaning against his cushioned car seat to watch it unfold. His body was frozen, unable to move. His throat tightened too much to even allow breathing. It was happening again.

The movements grew sluggish; his mother's wide eyed stare already flooded with tears. His father's normal sunken eyes bulging till he wondered it they would pop out. Their words slowed to an undecipherable bass but he knew every word.

It seemed to go on for eons, till finally it was the moment of impact. His body moved slowly slamming against the seat belt his mother ordered he wear. The loud crack of a rib made him flinch even after all this time.

No pain blossomed out; instead it sent warm Novocain through his veins. His body jerked quickly back, slamming against his cushion to show the horror of his slower moving parents. It was just like he remembered, even the warm smell of blood.

Vernon Dursley's body hit the steering wheel, making his large lump seem to snap in half. An eerie set of snaps then his father's slumping against the steering wheel. His head resting against the top, before a loud POW and white airbag popping out. Another set of crunches followed before it slowly deflated, red staining it with long gushing rivers. His father's face buried deep in the material, with strange bumps popping out his sweater. The sight made his body lurch over, and vomit he didn't know he possessed flow from his mouth.

His body lurched for the breath to scream, to let out his horror that was ripping at his insides. Instead he found himself turning to look at his mother. Her body slumped against her seatbelt, barely breathing he knew from the thousands of times he had relived the moments. Tears burned in his eyes, as he wondered if she would have lived.

He tried to fight against his frozen body, to make it somehow change the past. It was to no avail, he could only watch with ongoing sorrow. _Was he dead?_ He wondered. _Had he died within the cell, and was now forced to live out his last moments with his parents forever. Never able to change it…frozen in time._

The fumes of gas burned his eyes, while causing his throat even more anguish. "Mum." He whispered, staring at her slumped figure. The very last sight of his parents he had ever had.

The sound of the car door creaking open didn't draw his attention; he wanted one last moment to stare at his mother still alive. "Big D." His nickname echoed through the small cavern of the car, making tear prickle behind his eyes.

Piers smug smile made his stomach clench seeing the boy he had called his friend. Piers who had stared at him with such awe only hours ago, who he had boasted to with endless lies. He leaned into the car his face sharp with malevolence; the boy who had caused it all.

"Hurry Piers." Gordon's panicked voice was muffled, while he shuffled nervously behind the smug boy.

Piers leaned further into the car, unbuckling his seatbelt. Dudley tried to keep himself upright, but his body inevitable slid to the side and into Piers arms. He prepared himself for the pain, but not came with the hard jerk. His body didn't feel like it was melting into hell, just the total numbness surrounded him.

"Bloody Fuck!" Piers growled, yanking roughly till he wondered if a couple more ribs had popped then he thought. "Gordon get off your arse and help me." Piers growled at the nervously twitching man.

Gordon's hand felt like cold death against his arm, yanking till he felt the familiar pop his shoulder. "Bloody heavy wanker." Piers growled, yanking my arm and shoulder. They dragged my body across the upholstered seat, till I hit the ground with a thump. I could only stare at them, even though my heart ached to strangled the life from both.

"Maybe we should leave him." Gordon nervously whispered, while I felt sharp rocks digging into my swelling body.

"No!" Piers snarled, grabbing a hold of his arm again. "The Master wants at least one of them alive."


	17. home alone

The moist sour smell of fear permeated through the room heating against the magical flames till it concentrated the air with it threatening to choke those who entered. Dense atmosphere weighed powerfully on the single occupant shivering under his woolen blanket. Face pinched in grips of a nightmare, while panicked whimpers escaped his dry cracking lips.

"Winky!" The name came out it a squeal piercing the apparition of the tiny house elf from the dream. Tiny knobby limbs jerked about of the nightmare's owner, knocking anything its path, causing the single lamination lamp to shatter against the opposite wall in a magical burst. Tiny warm ashes glowed brilliant white before sizzling into useless shards of glass.

Dobby sprung up in his uncomfortable bed, his tennis ball eyes searching the alien darkness in dread. The room glowed pale blue from the streaming moonlight, causing eerie shadows to form where light had been. He felt he knew each by name, they had stalked him through his dreams for years.

"Master Snape? Echoing pain still leeched to him from the horrendous dream that was more memory then fantasy. Tears dripped down his scared cheeks causing a wide wet spot of his nightshirt. "Masssstttter Snape?"

Dobby dropped to the bed ignoring the way his joints groaned in protest to the quick movement. His gangly arms pulled his knobby legs to his chest in a feeble act of defense. Joints moaned in agony at the pain shooting through his body caused by the position. Puckered flesh pulled taunted over his bones causing several patches of skin to glow bright red in agony.

"MASTERS SNAPE." His voice was a pathetic sobs; echoing back from the shadows to cause further distress on the tiny creature. It reminded him of the voices, they came before the beatings, the tortures that scared his skin, they came before Winky had died.

"Masssssss…" The word died on his cracked lips as the nightmare dripped away to remind him of the Potion's Professors visit.

Snape face was tight against itself, making his normally squinted eyes wide. "Do not forget." Metallic strains of hair tumbled around his broad shoulders, causing shadows to dance along his face. "By first day light you will leave the Manor if we are not back."

Dobby eyes burned in confused dread while tugging on the tip of a large ear in concentration. "Dobbys can go. Dobby cans help." The creature whimpered, his lip quivering from suppressing tears. He didn't want to be alone; too many memories came when he was alone.

"No you will stay." Severus's words were edged with controlled emotions. His eyes deepened to an abyss of black shiny anxiety.

The house elf burst into frightened tears staring at the wizard. "DOBBYS BE GOOD!" His screamed, causing the older man to flinch at it glass shattering pitch. "DON'T LEAVES DOBBYS MASTER SNAPE! DOBBYS BE GOOD AND HELPS!"

Snape's face twisted in painful remorse before dropping back to an emotionless mask. "Dobby!" He hissed, silencing the elf into quite whimpers.

Dobby yanked harder on his ear causing a slight stab of pain. He remained silent watching Snape through the lacquered layer of tears coating his eyes.

"You will stay here…" The squeal of the elf stopped him long enough to scowl Dobby into silence again. "You will be protected here, I promise."

Dobby hands tremors traveled up to his shoulders, making his hand drop limply at his side. "Dobbys…" Stubbornly he tried to continue on but Snape glowered at him till he was quiet.

"You will stay here." With that Snape stood not allowing further argument from the elf. With a swish of his robe he was gone from the room, leaving Dobby alone.

Dobby wasn't sure how long he had cried before falling into a fitful sleep but his face was sore with all the tears he had shed that night. "Dobbys alone in night." The blonde devil came for him in the night, his eyes as cruel as his nature.

Lucius Malfoy cruelty haunted the creatures' dreams with the evil he had thrust upon him. The courses of magic that had drain his power away, ripping it apart under the continuous exposure. It left him helpless against the torture he would endure with other creatures that Malfoy had gained with the raising of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named.

The endless hours he had spent under the powers of the wizard, his wand casting curses for Malfoy's and guests amusement. Their faces bright with excitement while he writhed on the ground from the agony of the Crucio curse. His mind under the curse only longs enough to etch the power on his mind without destroying it.

Over the years he had fallen victim to the curse more then any other creature, taking the burnt of Lucius's rage over his escape from his slavery years ago. His body only kept alive by the house elf, Winky. She had found herself at the end of his wand hundred of times for nursing him from death.

Her wide brown eyes growing hollower with each passing spell, till Malfoy raised his wand to her and hissed the death curse. Winky's body dropped into a heap which he was forced to clean away, before coming back for his punishment.

Even in death her face was scrunched up in sorrow, eyes wide as if still alive. The female elf's body was slightly sticky with the power, and colder then tiny icicles of winter. He had carried her to the dungeon where he was forced to bury her within the same prison she had lived with him for all those years.

It danced in his mind making the scars from digging her grave by hand itch with memories. The stagnant odor of the dirt still lingered in his nose as he was hexed into unconsciousness that night. Waking he found himself tossed within the same cell only feet from her final resting place. The room smelling of unique rancid death that only magical creature bodies possessed. He had to find oblivion again that night by slamming his head into the wall repeatedly.

"Winky." He whispered, pulling his legs tighter to his chest. His body burned with pain but he refused to move from the position. It had hid him within the shadows of his cell when they had come for their fun.

Her whispered reverberated off the shadow cloaked walls, coming back to him in a soft murmur. Grubby fingers dug into his skin, while he searched the darkness confused by echo. His tiny mind to drown in fear to understand that it was his own instead of a stranger in the room. "Master…"

A scream of terror bubbled into his throat hearing the soft voice again, growing louder. He stared into the darkened room, trying to see where it was coming from. New tears joined the old, making him drenched with wetness.

What if they had come back for him; waiting till Master Snape had left to reclaim him as a prisoner. He would rather die then be taken by them; thrown with the cell that Winky's bones laid.

Only the soft glow of moonlight lit the room, moving about with every shift of the trees branches outside. "Dobbys scared." The words bounced back, blurring into a murmur.

The house elf gripped his legs tighter feeling the tormentor within the room, waiting to strike him down. They had come for him. "No's leaves Dobby alone." He screamed, pulling tighter into the dark corner of his bed.

"Dobby." His name came back clear only morphing into the deadly hiss of Lucius Malfoy in his frightened thoughts.

The terrified house elf quivered, feeling his former Master's power pushing against him. "Nos leaves Dobbys alone." He whispered, trying to use a strength that Malfoy had drained long ago.

"Dobby." Dobby lifted his head watching the shadows dance, after his softly whispered name came back. They moved in an odd rhythm before moving back.

"DOBBY!"

Dobby's shrill scream echoed through the room before the house elf thrust himself to his feet. His screamed name seemed to shake the stone walls, before he ran for the door. His half numb fingers clutched onto the knob trying to turn it.

"DOBBY!" Dust from the door coated the elf, before he threw open the door and ran for his life through the halls of Snape Manor.


	18. Final Predictions

The long gray frizz atop her head loaned itself to the mystical power surrounding her body, her eyes never quite seeing the present. Her hands constantly moving about her in a wild disorientated manner was enough to make the young woman ill with watching her. It was below her to be watching the old hag when she could surely help the Dark Lord with her power. Her ability to betray her Draco should have surely proved her strength but instead they persisted in making her watch crazed mystic.

Pansy Parkinson gently tapped her wand against the polished table, wrinkling her nose at the thick smog of incenses that burned at all hours. They had passed burning her eyes with their stench; instead, it left her feeling nauseated by the days end. Food even took on their strange smells, until all she could taste was myrrh, sandalwood, or lavender.

The Dark Lord must have known that her talents are squandered in these walls, even if her lover insisted the mystic power. "Trelawney." Pansy snorted to herself, remembering the hours of class she had attended. The woman was more mad then mystic, her predictions false at every turn. "Great Seer." The very thought was preposterous.

Pansy took in a deep breath of muggy air making her lungs ache as they filled. Trelawney on the other hand seemed completely oblivious to the disgusting room, snoring loudly on her thick featherbed. It was enough to make a sickness build in Miss. Parkinson stomach, which increased with the slack-jawed sleeper's drooling.

"Bloody hell." That was all she could take, she needed to get out of the room. They would never know if she snuck out of the room for an hour. The old hag wouldn't stir, she never did. Pansy pushed herself up, uncaring of the loud thump it made slapping against the wall. Sibyll only grunted loudly before rolling over to lay haphazardly on the edge.

The hard faced young woman yanked open the door, enjoying the fresh gush of air hitting her from the hallway. Even with the musky odor, it felt wonderful to her lungs, instead of the thick oxygen of the room. Rushing out of the room trying to beat the hot air, she slammed it shut again. The cool wind of the hall felt heavenly slipping under her thin robes to chill her overheated skin. Perhaps two hours away from the room would be much more suitable. With a quick lock spell, she shuffled down the hall.

The soft glow of poorly kept embers lit the room, illuminating the smoke trailing off the three dozen incenses in the room. It trailed off in odd patterns around the soundly sleeping witch, to create a cocoon of warmth. "Potter." She hissed softly her body twitching violently against her woolen blanket.

The deep orange of the fire died into nothing almost at the same moment the incenses died into dead gray ash. Icy air flowed off the witch causing the room temperature to drop rapidly until her breath came out in puffy clouds of white.

Trelawney body shook violently against the bed, her eyes twitching behind her eyelids faster with every passing second until finally they flew open. Her eyes milky white as if blinded before she jutted to sit up. Moonlight lit her gray hair, creating a halo of silver around her saggy face. Her skin drained all color until she glowed against moonlight.

"THE GREEN EYED WARRIOR HAS RISEN." Her voice harsh and echoing as if a dozen people spoke at once. It reverberated against the wall growing in strength until it died before touching Sibyll ears. "THE WAR OF HEAVEN AND HELL WILL RAGE WITHIN MAGIC…ONLY IN THE MOONLIGHT WILL THE SHADOWS BE REVEALED…ONLY THE LIGHT CAN CALL THEM OUT…"

Small icicles formed on the stone of the fireplace, dripping down to hiss against the still hot insides where the embers had glowed. "THE DARK LORD WILL MET HIS MATCH ON THE GROUNDS RAINING BLOOD OF THE MAGICAL...THE LIFE OF AN INNOCENT SHALL BE SCARFICED…THE END WILL COME… "The saggy body slumped against the bed, its last breath coming out in a puff of smoke before falling to a heap on the ground.

The chill of the air fill Trelawney's lifeless body allowing the stifling heat to re-emerge into the room. Nothing seeming out of the ordinary when the young witch would came back, who would silently rejoice before alerting anyone of the old Seers condition.


	19. Voldermort Dreams

Two thousand moments of life refracting into a wide panoramic vision behind Harry Potter's eyes, causing his stomach further distress with its whirlwind spins. They were portraits of his past bending with odd stiff movements, more dreamy then real.

Uncle Vernon dragging him to the cupboard; Dudley pushing him down the last couple of steps; Draco calling him 'scar head'; his off-center reflection in the mirror of Erised. Each had their place in the picture show within his head, warming him to the ache before the pain hit.

Hermione petrified, her eyes holding only a hollow stare; Ron lying limp beside the chessboard; Cedric's body lifeless; the screaming in his head from the Dementors; the last moment he saw Sirius. They spun together transforming into a hoarse scratchy hiss that made nervous butterflies flip around in his body.

"You…once…not hap…" He tried to force his mind to stop the shuddering; to focus on the whispering hiss. The harder he tried to train his ears to sound, the deeper it blurred into a bass that caused small cracks of false truth to bleed into each picture. He wondered if it was dreams of his past, or just the odd voice that was making them dance in such a insincere way.

The portraits watercolors dripping away until nothing remained. They seeped down from his sight till only one stood in the distance. It glowed dimly showing a slouched hooded figure that made his stomach drop out.

"You escaped me once…" the deep male voice whispered, making Harry's head burn with the sudden clarity of it. He forced his hands into fist to avoid lifting it to cover the pinpoint of the pain. The lightening scar ignited tiny fires in his brain burning until he wondered if it glowed.

The man limped forward in overcompensated movements, until Harry could see the ebony woolen cloak clearly. "You will not elude me this time." A pale ghostly white mask emerged from behind the oversized hood, his eyes an unyielding crimson. "Harry."

A sharp pain shot though his head; his scar burning into his forehead like acid was dumped onto it. Harry clutched his head, trying to tear away the pain. "Potter." The man's eyes glowed red, causing small cracks in the mask. It blinded and burned his eyes while he watched it fall away in large chunks. Voldemort.

Draco stumbled out onto the cobblestone steps, his stomach doing a little dance from the bombarding smell of sickness in the hut. He took a deep breath of the forest, trying to purge his lungs of the horrible odor. His nose buzzed with the dark magic, a fact that he found rather disconcerting.

They must be close, closer then they should. The forest would surely keep them at bay; their darkness would not chance the forest. Magic no longer held sway within the realm of trees; it left many defenseless in its dark clutches.

"AAAAAHHHHH." Draco forced away the creeps crawling up his spine, hearing the screech. He still could picture them falling upon the red haired boy's body, sucking his soul from his body. Only a shell was left, no even the warmth of the day warmed his skin as they carried him back.

"VOLDERMORT!" Malfoy spun on his heels, turning to sprint back to the hut but a pull called to his back. It felt cold, harsh, deafening.

"HARRY!" Hermione screeched, echoing through the abandoned grounds.

The blonde stared up at the dark looming Dementor, his face sinking in slightly at the effects. His fingers clutched around his wand, shaking slightly in his hand. "Expecto Patronum." The words came out cracked, weakening before it could even eject from his wand.

"DRACO!" Fred charged from the hut, thrusting the blonde into his twins arms. "Bloody git!" He barked at the looming shadow before throwing the Patronus Charm.

"Bloody fuck," George breathed, causing Draco to switch his attention to the distant cloud of black floating robes threatening to engulf them. They were all coming for a fresh feast; the creatures could practically smell the power flowing from the cabin.

Harry. His strength was calling to them, beckoning them closer to grounds they would not have dared enter before. Draco pushed himself from George's grip, his wand at the ready. They wouldn't have Harry, they couldn't.

George walked to stand beside petite blonde and his brother, ignoring the tingling of the flowing power behind him. Harry was alive. It rang in his head like a beautiful symphony. Harry was alive.

Fred felt the strength of the other two wizards, preparing for the battle ahead. The remaining crystals filling their pockets would be to no avail against these monsters. He only hoped they could fight them off, to escape and not meet the same fate as his fallen brother.

"Draco?" Hermione whispered, her voice slightly off-key. She stood at the bottom of the cobblestone steps, her face pinched while holding Harry in her arms. "What do we…"

A streak of bright rusty turquoise rolled past the three standing wizards to jerk to a stop. The vine covered rusty bucket's out-of-tune honking causing all of them to jump back. All but Harry stared at their savior…a rusty Ford Anglia.

"Da's car?"

Note-I would like to thank my brand new beta for helping me, LariLee.


	20. Ashes of Life

Note-I would like to thank LariLee for correcting my terrrible grammar mistakes...believe me there are lots of them.

Gordon's hand felt like cold death against his arm, yanking till he felt the familiar pop his shoulder. "Bloody heavy wanker." Piers growled, yanking his arm and shoulder. They dragged the large lump of Dudley's body across the upholstered seat, till he hit the ground with a thump. He could only stare at them, even though his heart ached to strangle the life from both.

"Maybe we should leave him?" Gordon nervously whispered, while Dudley tried to ignore the growing sensations of sharp rocks digging into his back.

"No!" Piers snarled, grabbing hold of his arm again. "The Master wants at least one of them alive."

The smells came quickly--the heady odor of grass, coppery scent of blood, and the wafting fumes of gasoline. It constricted his throat made his lungs ache as it had the first time. "No," He tried to whisper but only a strange gurgle rushed through his lips.

"What about Mrs. Dursley?" Gordon uneasily bounced from foot to foot, staring into the car where she wheezed for breath.

"Leave her." Piers emotionless voice echoed in Dudley's ears, making his stomach bottom out. Even though he knew the answer, he wondered why they were doing this to him. Why his friends he had trusted would leave his parents to die?

"What if she… she makes it out?" Gordon stared down at Dudley for a moment, his face seeming to struggle against thousands of emotions. He looked away quickly though, seeing the pleading expression on Dudley's face.

"Don't worry, she won't." The words resonated through the air with promise, making Gordon freeze at the comment. "Now let's get this wanker to the car."

"Piers…" Gordon choked, looking more anxious.

"Just grab his hands or you're going to join her," Piers snarled, grabbing the front of the boy's shirt. "Got it?" He tossed Gordon away, disgust showing on his features.

Gordon scrambled to keep his balance, his face showing a new determination that Dudley had never seen even shadowed in the boy's face. He grabbed Dudley's wrist, his stumpy fingers digging into flabby flesh making the owner wince.

His body pulled away from the burrowing rocks, doubling the pain he felt only moments ago. The memories of it came back in all its brilliance, making him sob with the agony of it. Gordon yanked his arms trying to move faster from the car, while Piers seemed contented with a leisurely pace.

Dudley's head bounced against the ground, sending small quakes of reality flashing through. The darkness of the cell, the glowing eyes of the beast, his blistering skin. His head screamed for a balance but the constant jarring only created more chaos in his brain.

"Bloody fuck!"

The soft growling of the creature, the snapping of jaws in the distance.

"Hurry up!"

"Shut the fuck up, Gordon!"

His tried to shake it away, draw his thoughts into one moment in time. Dudley wondered if he had finally gone mad with the pain, perhaps he was still within Gordon and Piers arms and the time between had been a pain induced nightmare. Perhaps it was of things to come, the reality that would become him.

"Git!" Piers snarled, dropping his body to the ground. "Prop him up!"

"Why?" Gordon asked, still tugging on his arms.

Dudley's vision was clear, much clearer than he remembered in the other reality. Piers' outstretched hand, extended by a thin piece of wood over his head. It pointed directly at Gordon's loosened grip. His arms dropped to the rough pavement of road, making his pain more vivid.

"Because I want him to see his mother die," Piers growled, poking the young man in the chest several times.

Gordon stared at the thin stick, flinching in terror with each jab. "Yes," He whispered, before Piers turned to point at the car with the stick.

Dudley tried to plead with his friend using his eyes, since his breath couldn't seem to fill his lungs. i Please don't do this, /i he pleaded in his mind but it went unheard to the scared boy.

Gordon turned his face away, yanking his shoulders up. He pushed against Dudley's back with his foot, thrusting him to slump forward. His mind blinked into blackness for a moment, the pain too much for him to bear. He was positive he could feel bones digging into his gut.

"Hold his head up!" Piers demanded, from behind the fog of pain.

Dudley felt his head pull up, Gordon's fingers digging into his double chin. "I'm…" Gordon started, but was silenced at the sharp stare of his partner.

Dudley couldn't see the smirk on Piers face but he felt it down to his broken bones. It made a block of ice form in his stomach. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to block out what he knew was coming.

"OPEN THEM!" Piers boomed above him before uttering some words that made no sense to Dudley but seemed familiar. His eyes popped open to stare at the crushed car, his father and mother's shadow outlined in it. He tried to force his eyes away, to cover them with his eyelids but nothing obeyed him.

Gordon hands squeezed his face harder, digging his fingers into his jaw. Piers whispered softly, his face showing a glee that made him soulless to Dudley at that moment. A sharp streak of light flashed out of the stick, before a brightest light he had ever seen formed before him. The car didn't flip into the air, or even move as it did on the telly. The stick just shot fire through the car that caused all the windows to burst outwardly. Something he would have considered soft if he had seen on one of his programs days ago, but now seemed the greatest horror in the world. It was real, too real. The cushion he had formally plopped into was burning into blackness. His parents bodies. while unseen, could be imagined in his mind like the cushion. Turning into ashes, leaving them to cover his heart, his life.

Piers turned on him, his face taking a new anger. "You should never have protected him," he whispered, shaking his wand at Dudley.

He tried to think passed the pain, but his mind was too caught within it. His body jerked backwards, before the darkness overcame him. The chill from the grimy cell walls seeped through Dudley's back and shoulders, cooling the old pain away. Remus' counterpart growled softly, before yanking against the chains once again.

A loud metallic clank and Dudley knew one arm was free. It wouldn't be much longer for either of the deaths to happen, the numbness of his body warned him of that fact. He only hoped it would remain so if the beast was upon him first.

"AAAAAAAAAAAA!"

Dudley's head lolled to the door, hearing a loud scream on the other side of it. He stared at it, wondering ideally if it was another prisoner meeting his death.

BOOM!

The huge door flew across the room, sprinkles of purple magic following it. Dudley eyes followed it, watching as it hit the other wall. A gold key glinting it the moonlight before falling out the keyhole, then falling face down.

"Impedimenta!" A girl's shrill voice echoed through the cell, before the Dudley could look back at the empty doorway. A wild young woman standing there, her wand rose at the beast across from the cell. It was now frozen, it eyes the only clue that it still lived.

The young witch's dirty blonde hair tangled around her, her silver gray eyes focused on Dudley. She didn't say a word as she strolled across the cell, looking down at him like she had never seen a human before. "Are you ready to go?" she whispered, as if she was saying a secret.

Dudley wrinkled his nose at her, confused by her question. "I…you…who?"

"Yes." She nodded as if he had answered her. She raised her wand again before bellowing words that were too loud for Dudley to understand. He turned as the bricks of the wall flew in all direction outside, leaving a wide opening.

The night air whooshed into the cell, pulling away the magic crushing his chest. The young woman yanked him upwards like he weighed nothing. "Remus…" he choked out, staring at the unmoving beast.

"Werewolves don't hold magic long," she sighed, yanking him with her. Her hands were grimy against his skin, her dirty appearance made him wonder if she had been a prisoner in the Pamphilan Dungeons. "Guards are coming." She raised her head up like a bloodhound, before yanking at him.

Dudley's body felt too numb to walk but he found his legs jerking in front of one another. They yanked him forward, towards the hole in the wall to the outside. His body moving like an old Frankenstein movie he used to watch on the telly. He stared at Remus, wanting to go release him.

The young witch seemed to read his mind, the final chain dropping away from the beast's wrist before he was yanked outside. Her face shining in the moonlight, pulling him along with her movements. "Who…"

"Luna…Luna Lovegood," she whispered, before pulling him towards a small group of trees.

"What…"

"Waiting," she answered, seeming annoyed with, in her opinion, his berating questions.

Dudley wanted to ask for what, but the answer came before he was able to answer. The screaming of the guards, Remus' beast growling in the distance. Luna stared off into the distance before grabbing his shoulder. "You don't get Portkey sick?" she asked, staring at him with total seriousness. He tried to tell her he had never done a Portkey, but a pull behind his bellybutton jerked him before he could answer.


	21. Wise Raveclaw

Her fingers reached further out the window, scraping her arm between the thick metal bars. The room spun in sharp movements, fluttering with a demanding magical pull. It was splitting her mind, pulling her into two different directions until finally her legs gave out to leave her clutching the Portkey in a heap on the grimy floor.

Luna Lovegood's fingers flexed around the small charm, trying to fight the burning throb of her body being thrust back. Her head still ached from the split, leaving her disoriented for several long minutes. It was harder each time she tried; each time it pulled her apart until she felt broken in two. This time, she hadn't been able to get past her elbow before she collapsed on the rough ground.

Portkeys were useless within Pamphilan Dungeons; the witch's power, even in death, was able to counteract the magic within the charm. Her only hope was to reach far enough out of the cell for it to pull her out, to help her escape to number 12 Grimmauld Place. The decrepit old home, abandoned by the Order of the Phoenix long ago, was the only place she really felt any safety. Perhaps it was the old hippogriff, which would attack anyone besides her.

Luna pushed herself up, staring at the moonlit window that was thick with grim and blood. Some of it was hers, but most was from former prisoners, perhaps with the same hope as her own. The thought of that fact made a shiver run down her spine, before she pushed it away. She would escape. She had to escape, even if it was only to pet the old hippogriff.

She opened her hand to stare down at the small charm, its iridescent color shimmering brighter under the moonlight. The small raven wings on the charm flapped on occasion before falling still again. She turned it over in her palm; the backside read 'Wise Ravenclaw'. Luna stared at the words for several seconds, before shoving it into her dilapidated robes.

"Wise Ravenclaw." She whispered to herself, staring back at the window with misery. Luna wished that were true, wished that she was smart enough not to have been caught by Death Eaters. She had fallen into their trap. Her only thought had been to protect the small house-elf from death, instead of logically thinking. At the time, it had seemed the only choice, but now she had hours to maul over how she could have done it differently.

The distant sound of a laugh echoed through the wall, making her turn her head sharply towards the door. It was close, closer than what was comfortable for her. She pushed herself up, bobbing back and forth several times before she was able to gain her balance enough to tiptoe to the door.

"…so mad, that I doubt she will….the crystals should…." Luna pushed her ear closer to the door, but the words were too muffled for her to understand. She could feel their footsteps under her bare feet; they were coming for her. Only a few other prisoners resided in this area of the prison, most having died within days of arriving. The witch's necromantic power wasn't strong enough to keep them alive when the crystals were melting away their skin.

Luna pushed her ear harder against the door, hearing them talking more rapidly. "Potter's cousin will…the werewolf is going to rip him limb from….destroy the body by tomorrow."

"What about the Lord….angry if the boy dies?" the other guard chimed in, his voice sounding slightly alarmed.

"No, he will probably…besides I don't see anything different from any other Muggle."

Luna moved away from the door, her face scrunching up trying to process what she had just heard. Harry's cousin in Pamphilan Dungeons with a werewolf? Voldemort wants him kept alive? He was going to die tonight. She stared at the door several seconds more before dropping to sit on the ground.

Quickly, her mind began planning an escape or Harry's cousin would not be the only one to die tonight. The soft rasp of the key entering the lock drew her attention, before she stared off into space. They thought her mad. It had kept her from torture and hopefully would aid in her escape tonight.

"Loony." The name had stuck to her, so it was not surprising to her when the guards entered the room muttering it. She continued to stare off into the shadows, watching their jerky movements. "The bloody crazed wench doesn't even know we are here."

Luna rolled her head sideways, turning to stare at the opposite wall. One was cradling an armful of crystals while the other stared at her with open excitement. "She will know when we use a few crystals on her," the guard whispered, as if it was a beautiful prayer.

The guard with the crystals moved closer, trying to catch eye contact that she refused to give. Closer…closer…Luna's hand shot out, forcing the armful of crystals to explode against his chest.

"AAAAAAAAAA!" he screamed, loud enough to make her ears ache.

Her hand worked quicker than she thought possible, pulling the guard's wand from his belt. " I Petrificus Totalus! /I " she barked, pointing the strange wand at the other guard.

His body froze, while the other guard gurgled on the ground. The crystals effects were fighting against each other to see which would kill him first. His body jerked about, while his skin emitted a strange gurgling sound. Luna turned her eyes away, feeling sickness building in her chest.

She clutched the wand in her hand, walking past the guard, staring at him. The magic would probably wear off in only minutes; she had to get away and find Harry's cousin before it did. Her skin prickled with the magic as she walked out of the cell into the long corridor.

Luna moved quickly, her feet aching as she walked across the uneven ground. The loud growling stopped her in her track, making her turn to the door from where it emitted. " I Bombarda /I !" she barked, ignoring the key in the lock. She wasn't willing to chance the key untainted with Dark magic, to touch it. The door jerked backwards, flying across the room to hit the opposite wall.

She blinked into the dark cell for several seconds before she saw the beast, one of its chains pulled from the wall scraping against the ground as it reached out for a tiny figure heaped on the floor. The other cuff barely in the wall, making her positive he was going to attack.

" I Impedimenta /I !" she screamed, before he completely pulled the chain from the wall.

Luna turned her attention to the boy heaped on the ground, his face dazed with pain. Propelling herself forward, she walked to stand over him. He didn't look much like Harry, but his expression, it was the sad, broken look of one who didn't feel that he could go on. She had seen it when Harry had lost his Uncle all those years ago and now she faced it again. "Are you ready to go?"

Harry's cousin seemed confused, his face scrunching up. "I…you…who?"

"Yes." Luna answered for him quickly, knowing that the werewolf would only be frozen for a moment or two more. She turned her attention to the wall, before bellowing the blasting curse. The wall exploded outwards, sending bricks flying through the air. Turning back towards the young man, she reached down to pull him to his feet. His thin frame allowed her to pull him up as if he weighed next to nothing.

"Remus…"

"Werewolves don't hold magic for long," Luna sighed, pulling him towards the hole. She jerked her head up, hearing the sound of running. The guard was coming for them. "Guards are coming."

She yanked the young man along, her mind trying to think of how to escape them when it came to her in a flash. With a quick flick of her wand, the chains fell away from the beast's arms, freeing him from the wall. Yanking the young man behind her to the outside, she pulled him to a small forest of trees she had stared at longingly from her cell window. "Who…"

"Luna…Luna Lovegood,"

"What…"

"Waiting," Luna sighed, wishing that he would be quiet. She wanted to make sure the werewolf spell would break before it was killed; it seemed a great deal to the young man.

The sharp growl answered her, followed by screams. A thankful rush of air filled her lungs, before she quickly searched for her charm. Digging into her pockets, she clutched onto the young man. "You don't get Portkey sick?" Her fingers closed around the charm, pulling them both away.


	22. thoughts of dying

Author note-Okay guys this is a very dark chapter, but I had to put a background for Dobby. I just wanted everyone to get an idea of what Lucius did to him, its for furture chapter purposes.

The looming moonlight, ciphered through Severus Snape's curtains, created a hazy dreamlike quality in the room. It was silent except for the small whimpers of the tiny house-elf, crammed into a corner his legs pulled up to chest in panicked horror. Dobby tried to control his crying; his face buried into his knees. He had found sanctuary in Severus' room, hiding behind his favorite chair. It left him with little view of the room, only the smallest glimpse of the walls and a window that moonlight burned through.

Even though Snape was not seated in his chair, his body slouched over a book trying to read by the weak light of fire, it made Dobby feel safer. It made him feel protected from anyone who came, anyone who wished him harm. It did not fight back the memories, not even his scared whimpers would appease them enough to leave him alone. The memories that haunted his nightmares and sometimes his dreams.

Dobby pressed his face deeper into his legs, his knobby knees digging into his forehead. His body rocking, leaving him uncaring his back was slamming into the bricks of the wall. It didn't matter as he remembered; all his focus was on the past.

The nights he had spent tortured by Malfoy by wand, or worse, Muggle punishment. His body sometimes not even good enough for magic to be spent on it, leaving Lucius to kick or punch his body into oblivion. His arms being the main aim so he could not lift them to protect his malnourished body from the torment. The nights when his screams would echo off the walls, to come back and remind him of what he was living and what he had lived only seconds before.

Every time, it never got easier. The pain never grew less intense but only built on the foundation of past beatings. His body left crumpled on the beautiful marble of the Malfoy Manor until he found himself being clutched in Winky's bony arms, her squeaking in his ear not to die. Her begging him not to leave her, hands moving about to try and soothe his wounds. Winky's eyes wide in terror.

All those times though never compared with the screams of Winky being tormented, screaming loud enough to make your ears hurt. His knobby fingers digging at the walls, trying to escape the cell to protect the female house-elf. To make Lucius focus his anger on his body rather then his weaker female companion. Her screams growing more loud with every passing second, while his fingers skin pulled painfully against the door. Then the silence, the silence that would leave all within their cell quivering in scared panic. Had Winky died because of Lucius' rage? Which of them would be next?

Dobby would pound on the door, frighten each time the silence came. It pressed upon him, making him more scared never thinking that the house-elf had survived. Then Lucius' angered face would appear, the cell door slamming open to toss Winky within it. He treated her like she was nothing, less then nothing.

Unconscious or awake when she was tossed onto the floor, she would pull her body into a tight ball, tears running down her dirty face while her body quaked in pain and terror. Then it would be his turn for trying to escape, for trying to protect her from Lucius' power. Malfoy's claw-like fingers closed around his arm, dragging him from the cell with only a small glimpse of Winky crying. His fingers clutching so hard that he wondered if his arm would just break sometimes.

"Malfoy not here," Dobby whimpered to himself, his whimpers growing louder. "Master Snape protect Dobby."

His memories pinpointed on the night that he was sure he would going to die at Lucius' hands, the night that the thoughts of dying had come into crystal clarity. His body probably being tossed somewhere like it was useless garbage that nobody cared about. The night that everything changed.

Dobby's body lay above the still fresh grave where he had buried Winky, his fingers digging into its moistness while caught in a dreamless sleep. His body curled into a tight ball, trying to protect himself even in his sleep.

Lucius had not bother to remove his Death Eater garb before going to find Dobby in his cell. Usually, Malfoy never wore his Death Eater robes while torturing 'his toys' in case one of them bleed in the session, or in one case exploded because of the power pulsing through them.

Dobby mind move slowly feeling a hand wrap around his arm, to drag him from the cell. In his half wakefulness he clutched onto the source to avoid his arm from being dislocated, not realizing the punishment Lucius would inflict on him for such a act.

His rules had become stricter since Winky's death, punishing him for the slightest infractions. Leaving him to wake in such pain, with no Winky to cuddle him in her arms. She was not there anymore to cuddle him in the night to keep him from freezing, or clutching onto him when Lucius came for him too soon. She couldn't take his beating anymore, she couldn't even beg him to hold onto life instead of slipping into the oblivion of death.

"HOW DARE YOU!" The Death Eater mask didn't even muffle his bellow, in fact it seemed to intensify the power of it.

Dobby found himself in the main entrance of Malfoy Manor, a beautifully marbled ground that was colder then his own cell floor. He blinked upwards, nearly screaming in horror seeing the ghostly mask looming above him in the moonlight.

"HOW DARE YOU TOUCH ME!"

Dobby curled himself into a tight ball, his fingers digging into his knobby legs. The first kick of the night hit him, followed by several more rapid ones. They aimed for his legs and arms to prevent him from protecting his body, to make them useless so he could not possibly protect himself from the torment. His first broken bone of the night was his arm, falling limp to the floor. The bones slightly brittle from the break it had received only six months ago, but this time their would be no Winky to wrap it.

The boot footfalls were growing weaker, Lucius growing tired from the unusual exercise. His wand came out then, the sight of the sharp dark piece of wood enough to send any of Lucius 'toys' into panicked fits. Dobby grabbed his arm sending agony through his body, enough to make tears brim in his eyes. He knew what was coming but he knew he couldn't escape it; there was nothing to stop this madman.

The first hex hit him, taking him by surprise even though he had expected it. A thousand daggers seemed to dig into his stomach making his stomach heave painfully. But Malfoy had not fed him in over a week, leaving not even enough stomach acid to burn his throat. His body could only convulse painfully, making old aches burn with bright new pain.

"NEVER EVER TOUCH…" The words were ignored, as a second hex hit his body. Digging into his body with ruthlessness that made the first seem merciful. Dobby knew he had screamed, the burning of his throat alerting him of that fact, but his ears could not pick up on the sound. He didn't even have the sounds to concentrate on to try and dull the pain, instead on a loud buzz went through his ears. It made the moment more vivid, more real to the giddy excitement of the white mask man above him.

The Crucio curse hit his body, with no slow torturing that Lucius had enjoyed with giddy excitement. It made his body convulse about, his body jerking backward at the digging pain of it. Crucio curses were different for every creature, depending on the strength of the wizard, and the receiver's powers. While Dobby's power had melted away from the torture but the residue of it still lingered, making it strong enough to kill many creatures after only seconds.

He didn't feel the kicks while he convulse around, or his wrist of his broken arm snapping as he landed on it. Lucius left him under the spell for a lifetime, it seemed, reveling in the power over another living creature. Not caring the effects it would inflict on it, instead just wondering how long it would take before it would simply die.

Dobby jerked to a stop realizing Lucius had released the spell, allowing him to slip into the scorching pain that his body was feeling. Two ribs throbbed under his skin, several of his fingers were bent at a odd angle, and his wrist and arm hung over his body with no possibility of being able to move them by himself.

The thoughts of the dirt falling on Winky's face while he buried her entered his mind, his body wouldn't even have a grave. Lucius would either dispose of him by magic, or toss his corpse out for someone else to deal with. His body lay limp, wishing to just give out, to release him from Lucius' power.

Breathing made his body hurt; everything made his body hurt. "YOU WILL PAY FOR…" Lucius voice fell silent, his head jerking towards the door. His stare narrowing through the slotted eye holes, before he turned to leave Dobby half-alive on the ground. Somehow, that seemed worst to the house-elf, instead of just killing him.

"Lucius." The deep bass of a familiar voice circled the room, making his body warm despite the icy chill of the floor. Footfall echoed off the walls, Lucius obviously letting the man into his manor.

"Severus." Lucius' voice was cold, annoyed…ruthless. "What has brought you…"

Footsteps came closer, before a grim face appeared above Dobby. "I see you have been taking your anger out on this." He waved toward the crumpled body of the house-elf, his life starting to leak out of him.

"It is there for that…I was just about to dispose of it if you wish to watch." Lucius removed his Death Eater mask, a wide sadistic smile planted on his lips.

Severus remained emotionless, stepping away to look at Malfoy. "Do as you wish." He was devoid of emotion, making tears stream down Dobby's face. It made him feel like Winky must of…less then nothing. His only hope he would see her in his afterlife. Lucius raised his wand, a thrill of his excitement obvious on his face.

"Of course…" Snape cut in before Lucius could lower his wand to Dobby. "I could use a creature for my experiments." Lucius arm was frozen midair, a frown on his face. "The Dark Lord would be greatly pleased if I finished his poisons, and I doubt your contribution would not go unnoticed."

Lucius lowered his arm, looking at the creature for several second obviously contemplating Snape's statement. He tapped his wand against the side of his thigh for several seconds before putting it back into his robe. "The Dark Lord will be please." He smirked, walking up to lift the elf by the arm before handing him to Snape.

Severus took the house-elf, his face emotionless while he clutched onto the arm. He could feel the break beneath his fingers, but didn't show any indication he cared. "I will be sure to mention your generosity to the Dark Lord," Snape growled, before Apparating out of Lucius Manor.

Tears burned in Dobby's eyes remembering how Snape had cradled him in his arms, gently calling his name. The hours he had nursed him, made the pain slip away until it was only a ache of what it was.

"Dobby." The soft growl of Snape's voice seemed to echo through the room, making him lean over to blink past the chair. "Dobby."

Snape was calling him, trying to find him. "Dobby coming." He cried, jerking himself from his hiding place. His body propelling towards the door, and through the hall to find him.


	23. Watching

Beta:larilee

The room was sour with the raw power battling inside it, the losing side seeming to grow more agitated with every passing second. The council's skin dulling to a sallow, taunt expression under the forceful push. Snape stood before them with graceful ease, his gaze giving nothing away. A Wizard with enough power to crush them all with a simple flick of the wrist, and yet he stood before them taking their hollow unspoken threats.

Wormtail pushed his scraggly fuzzy body deeper into the room, ignoring the way the tiny crack's sharp edges dug deeper into his tail and back end. His rat features sharp, and hideous with a odd silver front paw that tapped quietly against the stone. Small, watery eyes blinking past his wooly stray hairs to stare at the looming figure. Severus Snape.

"We have for many years known of the power used by the dwindling Potter followers." Lucius's voice was breathless, seeming to be suffocating under the power that Snape pushed upon them. Wormtail made a rat-like squeal at the name, his head still buzzed with the memory of the boy he had to endure for years. Quietly he plotted waiting for his Dark Lord to rise again, helping him at every turn to stop the Potter brat.

He had even helped in the raid on Hogwart's killing student after student, feeling the power he never felt when he was younger. Their magic flowing through the air, while their bodies dropped to the ground in a lifeless heap. Faces of hundreds passing before his eyes, their house colors meaning nothing in his mind.

They were all the same, all of them would turn on him in a moment, his only ally was the crowd of ghostly white faces striking down students. One even raised his wand to his son, watching him fall in a frenzy of hateful destruction. Their Dark marks burning with approval as each student collapsed, while Professor's tried to defend them with curses. Their voices shrill above the screams, some willing losing their lives to thrust themselves in front of helpless students.

They could taste the victory when the first wave of Deatheater's went down, with a short flick of Dumbledore's wand. His voice cold, hoarse, and bitter all at the same time as remaining Professors joined him to keep the remaining students alive. It frightened Peter into retreating from the castle, his animagus appearance helping him in the feat. Returning to the Dark Lord he retold the story of those he destroyed that day. Then the victorious news of Potter's slaying, Lucius proudly announcing his triumph. He had raised his wand to Potter, and the boy had gone down without so much as a fight.

"I see." Wormtail body ached with the sudden upsurge in magic before it passed from his animagus body. His small paws scuttled backwards delving him deeper into the protection of the stone, before he resumed his listening.

"That is why you have been summoned to us tonight." Lucius's voice echoed into the wall crack, making him scrunch his body tight before continuing to listen. Wormtail didn't look out anymore, his nose burning with the scent of magic suppression.

"I see." Snape replied, his voice sounded exasperated. "What is it that I can do for the Council?"

Peter peeked through his fuzz to see the rage in Lucius's eyes, his fingers tightening around his wand. His fingers moved to dig into the voluminous fold of his luxurious robe's fabric, before finally settling on one fold. A handful of brightly colored jeweled stones fell to the table, clinking softly. One creamy white colored one rolled to the edge, before dropping to the floor. Snape shuffled backwards, as a puff of deep crimson floated up from it. "Forgive me." Lucius's words were soft, full of laughter. A self satisfied smile perched on his lip, while his wand tapped on the table.

Snape's clutched in his wand, the air around him fluxing outward with a power and anger. Broken shards of crystals lying on the ground, milky white power seeping from it. A smaller wizard hiding in the shadows only moments before standing rail rod straight with his wand pointed at the council members.

"Longbottom." Snape hissed, watching up to grab the smaller wizard's arm. "I shall handle this."

"You should really learn to…" Lucius growled, until Snape turned back to him. Severus's eyes seeming to glow with power, and wand clutched in his bony fingers. His hand extending, making Wormtail wonder if he would strangle the life from Lucius's body.

With a quick movement, and a small gasp from a member Snape snatched the remaining crystals from the table. Tiny jeweled colors glinting in his open hand, making them seem beautifully malevolent. The small wizard finally slunk back to the shadows, his wand deposited back into his robes.

Lucius's eyes scrunched up tightly, watching as Snape rolled one particularly bright pink crystal in between his fingers. "Find out how to make them." Lucius growled, sound more grumbled then harsh.

Severus looked up from the small pink color letting his hand drop to the side, his fingers threatening to slip at any moment. "Of course." Snape smirked, turning on heels without bothering to be dismissed. His fingers continuing to hold the crystal, until only his billowing robe was a memory.

The pressure was released immediately, letting one member collapse against the table unconscious. Wormtail pushed his fuzzy body deeper into the hole, until only a dot of light remained of the room. His mind relving in the thoughts of past, the power he held, of the power the Dark Lord knew he possessed.


	24. Escape

. Author note-Sorry guys for the long wait but my chances to write have gotten slim over the last few weeks. I will try to come up with the next chapter faster but I can't make any promise. Thanks for sticking with me. Also thank you to my beta Larilee for everything she has done.

Age and moss had eaten away most of the moist taupe carpet, leaving bright orange holes of time to decorate the Ford Anglia floor. Only magic and vines kept the car together and the floor from falling out. The odor of dirt and rotting material, however, didn't deter the witch and four wizards from piling into its stuffy interior, nor from them finding their places on the damp cushioned seats.

Fred and George both tried to cram themselves behind the wheel, each clutching the steering wheel with both hands. "Move the bloody thing," Fred snarled, while George pressed the gas hard enough to make the pedal break off.

"Bloody Git," George snapped, reaching to hit the remaining buttons. Most of them were either faded into obscurity or completely missing. He slammed his hand down on the panel, making the door slam shut. The door to the driver's side slamming so hard it dented in, but the car still refused to budge.

Draco pushed his body deeper into the moist slightly green cushion, ignoring the way the door almost slammed on his leg. His wand clutched in his fingers, staring at the Dementors moving in a cloud of ebony cloaks. "Hermione?" he asked, never taking his eyes from the cloud.

Hermione stared out the windshield, spider webbed with hundreds of cracks. The blackness of the creatures engulfed their view making her clutch tighter to her wand, its wood cracking under the harsh grip. She looked at the young man beside her, his body shaking while clutching onto her arm weakly.

Harry's glassy eyed stare didn't see the Dementors closing in, their bony hands reaching out for the power they craved. His mind still too shadowed with the half-frozen image of Voldemort, his scar throbbing from the after effects of the dream. Forehead burning from his nails digging into his flesh, as his stomach did soft flips.

Draco leaned his body haphazardly out the window, his mind concentrated on protecting the young man in the backseat. "Expecto Patronum," he growled, watching as three close moving Dementors screech away from the streak of silvery magic.

"Bloody hell," Fred snarled, watching Draco out the corner of his eye. "The bloody thing won't…"

The car jerked backwards, nearly making Draco fall out of the window. The Dementors moved faster, trying to close the gap between them and the Ford. It's rusty turquoise rolled backward trying to gather speed, but the rocky forest grounds refused to allow the flatten tires to move quickly.

Draco ignored the way the trees branches slapped against his shoulder and arm as he fought off the closest floating creature. Their hands reaching for the windowless doors to get the car to jerk to a stop.

George frowned at the growl the car made, the grind of gears getting louder as the ominous cloud drew closer. The windshield glossed over with a thin layer of frost, causing more veins to pulse through the glass.

Fred clutched onto Draco's leg, holding blonde from flipping out the window into the forest trees. Vines whacked at Draco's shoulder, nearly making him tumble forward. Fred yanked the young man inside the car; the blonde supporting his arm to keep his wand pointing at the creatures.

Hermione tried to lean out the window to help Draco fighting the Dementors but Harry's tightening grip kept her in place. Her hand starting to lose feeling from his grip, her bones aching from pressure. "Draco," she breathed, watching as Fred yanked him into the car. His face scrunching up as his shoulder hit the cushion, his arm full of tiny cuts.

George hand slammed against the steering wheel, trying to get the car to move faster. The gears popped louder, the water in the dashboard freezing over. The disgusting remaining carpet froze over in hard slippery blocks. The motor growl had turned to a piercing screech, before finally it rolled to a frozen stop. Its gears completely frozen over, as the black cloaks surrounded them. Even the forest didn't deter the creatures from trying to devour Harry's power.

"Expecto Patronum!" Hermione screeched, seeing the Dementor reaching for Harry. The spell sputtered from her wand, falling short before it could toss the intruder. Her body began shaking violently from the cold, and the wash of bad memories gnawing at her power.

"Expecto Patronum!" Draco barked, thinking of Harry's now slumped figure. The silvery white power shot out, but it wasn't powerful enough to toss the Dementor from closing his hand around Harry's arm.

"Expecto Patronum!" Fred and George screamed at the same moment, seeing the group of Dementors trying to yank Draco from the car's inners.

Harry's stomach released on the floor of the Ford, the contents seeped through the holey floor. His fingers ripping away the cushioned seat with the light floor, as a cold hand grabbed his arm. The screaming echoed through his head, knowing it was his Mother's. It only lasted seconds before the hundred of other screams echoed even louder. His classmates, professors, friends--all dying in the raid. His eyes rolled back in his head. While his head demanded him unconscious, the new power refused.

The fresh power pulsed through him making the air around him burn with an odd ozone smell. He couldn't hear anything but a buzz; his body feeling like it was going in a thousand different places at once before his body jerked backwards.

Draco frowned passed his slightly scorched hair at the twins grins, his eyes strobe from the magic that shot pasted his vision only seconds before. His eyes watered for several long seconds, blurring his vision of Harry. Wand pointed at the young man and Dementor.

Hermione screeched as a burning magic pulsed up her arm, down through her spine and making her head throb. A bright silvery glow burned through the rusty Ford Anglia, making the Dementors screech away.

A bright silvery light glowed for nearly a minute scattering the shadow creatures before Harry power finally relented. His ebony hair glued to his forehead with sweat, the seat around him hot from the power.

Hermione prided the young man's fingers from her arm, the burning sensations only subsiding when his skin left hers. A tingle left in it wake, along with a deep crimson bruise.

"Harry?" Draco squeaked, his eyes burning with the magic's hot light.

"HARRY!" George cried, nearly jumping over the seat to see the motionless young man. His hand yanking away as an electric zing of power shocked him.

"He's alive," Fred breathed, staring at his small chest rising and falling.

"Let's go," Hermione whispered, her muscles aching from the magic. She slumped down in her seat, closing her eyes to block out the view of the car's inners.

"Mum will be waiting."


	25. Return of Old Friends

The grim of the air fill his lungs making his stomach twitch with a unsettled nausea while he stared down at the Witch on the ground below. Her hair deepening to the sky's blue while she dusted the grim of the ground from her robes. He blew out a thankful breath realizing she wasn't going to attempt to spell her robes clean. The thought of spelling her robe lifeless again was beyond his strength at the moment, all he could dream about was curling him on his bunk.

"Tonks hurry!"

The young woman's didn't turn to him; her eyes flicking over the ground before kneeling to run her fingers over the ground. "I lost my wand," she hissed more to herself then the hovering wizard, his annoyance showing on his expressive face. "Wood, go ahead."

Oliver lowered himself to the ground, the grace of a Quidditch player showing in his movements, before hopping off beside the old Witch. The moonlight weighed heavy on him as he stood on solid ground, making his fatigue of his muscles tingle. " I Lumos /I ," he whispered, his voice barely able to rise above a croak. The small light burned his eyes for several long seconds before he averted his attention to the ground.

Tonks frown deepened, not seeing her wand on the ground and wondering if she had lost it in the tree she had hit. She squinted up at the suspiciously motionless tree; her focus catching the small scrap of her robe blowing softly in the wind. Her arm still ached from the impact moments ago, but her mind too exhausted to care any further.

Wood followed the Witch's stare frowning up to see the tree she had crashed into, its limbs still for the moment. "Bloody hell," he muttered, before letting his head drop back down to stare at the ground.

"I'll get it," she whispered, pushing herself up to wobble on her feet for several seconds. The movement made her head spin for a moment before she recaptured her balance. Tonks took a deep breath in, trying to ignore the way her lungs wanted to choke in the thickened air, before taking a step forward.

Oliver reached his hand out, wincing at the way his shoulder burned from the deep magical welt on his arm, to grab Tonks robes. "I'll fly up and get it." The thought of her trying to retrieve the wand from its branches made his head ache, especially with the way her body nearly toppled over seconds ago. The pain of the battle had set in nearly a hour ago draining them both of all their reserves.

Tonks disguise had worked, but his cloak had not hidden their appearance for long, nearly leaving him dead from the five Death Eaters. Her wand had made the difference freezing two of them before they had time to react, but the other three had turned on them both, screaming hexes before they had finally petrified one and killed the other two. It had been all for not though, not finding any of the missing Evans in their company.

They both feared the worst for Dean Thomas, knowing his fate would be grim at the Death Eater hands; the raid he had lead nearly a month ago had probably sealed his fate. He had killed three high ranked 'monsters' of Voldemort, rescuing the living Evans' from further tortures. It had been a victory that had probably left the Dean dead.

Wood clutched the handle of his broom, his eyes watering from the prolonged exposure to the bright light. He quickly snuffed the light glowing from the end of his wand to climb aboard his broom. His grace, slightly jerky for take-off, left him to steady himself in the air before he cautiously flew towards the tree.

Its branches swayed slightly, but not enough to cause Wood alarm; his body loosening at being up on his broom. He glanced at the witch, her shoulder slouched, still staring at the tree with a frown.

"I'll get it," he whispered down to her, trying to ignore the way the tree swayed more freely.

Tonks turned her attention up to Oliver, allowing a small smile to seep through her exhaustion. Her body shivered from the chill the air held on the ground. It made the burning throbbing of her legs cool enough to numb them, leaving her them jelly-like beneath her.

Wood forced his Quidditch instincts on, his time with the professional team falling back into place like a second skin. He remembered the pain he had felt during the games, the spasms he had pushed through, the hours he had spent in the infirmary. But this pain was different than before. It felt more real; his mind wasn't focused on keeping the Quaffle away from the goal. Instead, all he could think about was he had lived through the battle. That his wand was weighed down with another soul of a familiar face, a face he had faced on the field and had blocked more then a dozen times. It seemed strange that he couldn't even think of his name, or perhaps he just didn't want to.

His broom obeyed him, floating him forward until the tree branches creaked with movement. Its bark flaking off like dead skin as it took a quick swipe at Wood's head. He dodged it easily, breathing in a deep scent of rushing air; it brought back the memories. Another swipe.

Tonks stared at Oliver her eyes barely blinking to make sure he wasn't tossed from his broom. Her fingers tightened into a fist, even though the imprint of her wand still ached from her clutching it in her hand. Another limb moved drunkenly about Wood's head, but left him slightly tousled the slap of the leaves. She pushed back her words of worry, knowing it might break the younger wizard's concentration.

Wood smirked to himself; the pain of the battle seeming to leak from his mind with every dodge. The excitement of beating the tree brought on a second wind, making his broomstick moves more showy then necessary. Weaving through open spots to push closer to the base, his eyes focusing to look for Tonks wand.

Tonks sucked in a breath, seeing Oliver's twirl through the air like he used to, so many years ago. A soft chuckle in the wind as he dodged each branch with skilled precision. She had not heard the young man chuckle for ages; he was either too weak from battle or concentrating on plans. His mind too caught up in keeping everyone alive. Losses were unacceptable, even though he had drained himself into exhaustion.

"Almost there." Oliver smirked, seeing a far too ornate branch to be part of the tree, laying in a crevice. He reached out his arm, nearly catching the tip, his mind to focused on claiming his prize to notice the new presence in the field. It stood looming, the wind blowing the dark robes about as it raised his wand towards him.

" I Everta Statum /I !"

Tonks breath caught in her throat as the spell threw Wood into a tree branch, before it threw his limp body on the other side of the tree. "OLIVER!" she screamed starting to run toward him.

" I Lumos Solem /I !"

Tonks squeezed her eyes shut as the field seemed to be set ablaze with light, it made a needle of pain shot through her skull. She took several steps backward trying to force away the sting, before she toppled backward onto her back. "Oliver!" she called out, trying to force herself up but her arms and legs kept giving out from under her.

"He can't hear you."

Tonks blinked through the light, trying to focus her sight. Everything blurred for several seconds before the watering stopped and she was able to see the man standing over her. A expressionless face, seeming odd with the bright red mane atop his head. "Ron," she whispered, blinking up to make sure she wasn't imagining him.

"Not anymore." He voice was monotone, as he stared at her like she was a complete stranger. His eyes were dull even in the bright light, his face holding a long fresh looking scar along his cheek.

"Ron…Oliver…" She felt her lungs burn with the chilly air, staring up at Ron's raised wand. It remained motionless for several seconds before jerking towards her.

Ron's voice was soft and dull. " I Petrificus Totalus. /I "

Tonks body locked up, making everything haze into a dreamy blur. Her last sight was Ron turning his wand in the direction of Wood, his expression only slightly surprised. I Ron. /I she thoughts for a moment before her mind slipped into exhaustion.

Many thanks to Larilee!


	26. Unchangeable Past

Number twelve, Grimmauld Place was more then just a ruin of its former self, a skeleton of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black. Floorboards and several large gaping holes loomed around every corner reminding you how vacant the line had become, how separated that the past was from the present. Time had disengaged several rooms of their doors, letting a sharp loud wind whistle through every room. It was enough to keep even a homeless Muggle at a distance, and the two shabby London homes surrounding it look respectable.

Only a smallest scraps of the Fidelius Charm lay within its walls, keeping the inside from being seen if anyone bothered enough to scratch through the barnacle-like grim covering the windows. A normally house of nightmares that children would run from and the lower class Muggles would sneer, saying it made their property value go down. Only the lackluster attitude that stood behind their sneers kept anyone from simply walking up and pushing the old shack down.

A fact that Luna Lovegood took great comfort in over the weeks she had been captured; she knew that the old hippogriff would still be snapping at the daring Doxies. The infestation had its benefits, and the ignorant biting fairies were too slow to realize the hippogriff would simple snatch them in his beak. A meager meal at best, but normal meals were harder to catch with him being stuck within the home's inner walls most of the time.

Luna's hands lost all feeling, making the small charm slip through her fingers and dropping to the floor with a hollow clank before rolling off into one of the black holes of floor cracks. An electrical spark burning all the way up from her toes before the room snapped into her vision. The Entrance Hall.

It was a large room with chunks of missing wall, and the remaining stained with gas that still reeked when the wind picked up enough. The rough bumps under her toes the only reminder of a carpet, it seeming to have merged with the floor beneath it. A line of blackened portraits stood bowed against the wall, its canvas losing its density to make them look almost see-through.

Only a single portrait laid face down, a layer of dust so thick that even the wind whipping over it could not disturb it. The troll leg umbrella stand resting on its back to keep it from being moved; preventing the horrible screeching the old bat had done when Luna had first found herself in the home. A fact that still made her spine tingle and her eyes water.

"Where….Where…" For the first time since she had been used the Portkey, Luna noticed the Harry's cousin slumped to the floor beside her, his body shaking from fear or cold, she wasn't sure of which. His eyes took in the Entrance Hall; his face pinched with a look of utter confusion before he simply slipped all the way to the ground with a soft thud.

Luna lips thinned, feeling the first prickles of wakefulness in her hands, letting her drop her grip from the young man's hand. His half-opened eyes stared blankly, and breaths came in slow erratic spurts making her lean down to touch his skin. Freezing, but not enough to make her panic.

"So…" she sighed down at the thin body, trying to ignore the thought perhaps he would be better off dead. There was a lifelessness to his skin, the kind that made even death look lively. A weight of responsibly ironed into his cracks, and loss had been scolded into his eyes. So much like Harry that it made her sickened to think of the young man she had called friend all those years ago.

Testing her feet to see if her equilibrium would hold, she lifted her one foot to notice a slimy goop plastered under her heel. A Doxy body wiggled on the ground where her foot hand been, and upon further inspection, a flattened head smeared across the back of her foot. Grimacing she wiped it the best she could across the floor before moving away to make sure none had gotten to Harry's cousin. She wasn't sure where to find the antidote anymore; they rarely came near her when the hippogriff was around.

Scanning around his body, there was no sign of a Doxy bite; she breathed a deep sigh of the clean…cleaner air. The thought of him dying now made her sick to her stomach, especially dying from a Doxy bite. Her tingle in her hands began to subside, while she slid down the wall to stare at the man. He made the reality of the time hurt, the difference of her life ache in a slow tortuous burn.

"Why?" She wasn't certain as what she was asking why for; or perhaps, there was too many reasons that they all blurred together to much for her to pull one free. "Why?"

Closing her eyes, she tried not to think too deeply, to not allow the tears she wanted to cry to be shed. It had been the past, and there was nothing to be done about it now. Time was a harsh mistress, and even the time tuner had proved worthless when it came to the War…to helping Harry. It was always the same, only she was forced to relive it over and over in a more gruesome picture. She had forced herself back so many times that the magic had tainted her, had forced away the haze that had become her life, to see the black truth that death couldn't be changed for the Boy Who Lived and Died.

"Why did you have to die Harry?" she whispered, before opening her eyes again. "Why?"

A soft squeal echoed on the wind, making the first smile touch her lips in far too long. Pushing herself, she ignored the way her body felt off kilter to shuffle to the where the snapping hippogriff jumped about. His older body still moving with the quickness of a younger hippogriff as he ate another Doxy. "Buckbeak." She whispered, bowing slowing to avoid her simply tipping forward.

The hippogriff snapped at another Doxy, before turning to notice her. It munched on the Doxy in his mouth before moving to make Luna pet its soft feathers.

"Miss me?"

Buckbeak seemed to purr softly under her touch, giving her the answer.

"Me too." she whispered, leaning in to rest her head against the hippogriff. "Me too."

Thanks to Larilee for being my beta.


	27. Infection Into Plague

The smell of Hogwarts of Witchcraft and Wizardry was different, the air about the school was charged with a energy that made Luna Lovegood sick with anxiety. She could feel the difference for days, but now the air was even pressing on her chest. It had smothered her since first waking up, and had grown more suppressive through the day. Leaving her half dazed in several classes, not that anyone seemed to notice any difference.

Her fingers held the Time Turner hanging from her neck, rubbing the small hourglass in a nervous habit. She knew that she shouldn't be allowing herself to fritter away the clock's minutes but something bit at her like a poison. It was making her movements lethargic in the empty hallway, so much so that the portraits around murmured as to whether to alert Madam Pomfrey or not. She quickly waved them off, ignoring the pursed frown of a nameless portrait witch.

Luna gazed up the moving staircases watching them lurch in their usual jerky flow, knowing now was the time to go to her Herbology class, she would be late if she didn't turn back now. Hiding in the common room, after adding a extra turn, was not only insensible, it was bloody boring. Dumbledore would probably also not look kindly on her for misusing the Time Turner if he found out. A fact that had left several students dropping classes just to keep up with a normal workload.

Now was the time to turn, class was about to let out, only a minute before everyone flooded the halls. Her fingertips tightened on the tiny knob, when suddenly her knees buckled with a wave of panic, her head spinning for a moment. She leaned against a smaller portrait ignoring how it made a small panicked squeal, before it fell silent again, and regained her balance slowly.

The young Ravenclaw's head ached with a odd surge, making her widen her stance to allow a more even weight distribution, and let herself lean more fully against the portrait's face. A small whispered, 'Are you all right?' was ignored as she looked down to between the banisters spindles. The first jerk of movement caught her off guard, making her push forward and nearly topple over the edge of the staircase. 

Portraits where rushing through one another, a panicked knight sprinted past her in the portraits, his clanking of his armor making her shiver. "RUN!" She turned on her heels, staring at a Witch far too big for the original canvas to fit. "RUN!"

Luna didn't understand the words for several long seconds before she found herself stumbling back up the stairs, her knee hitting edges of dozens of different steps before she heard the first scream. Spinning on her heels she lost her balance and toppled down three steps to land with a painful thump on her hands and knees. The pressure on her lungs made them tingle and quiver in her chest.

"RUN!" Reverberated off the walls below her.

A young first year girl screamed, her eyes wide as she panted up the staircase towards her. Face pale except for the red burn in her cheeks from the frightened running. Her eyes shifted behind her, never slowly her pace for a second.

"RUN!"

The wand in young Hogwarts student's hand quivered, panicky streaks of tears rolling down off a shaking chin. Her feet skipped over three steps to land on beside Luna. "The…the…"

"NO!" A loud echoing shrill boy's cry echoed out, making a bile run up her throat.

Luna pushed herself upwards, leaning forward to shove the first year up the steps. "LOCK YOURSELF IN THE COMMON ROOM!" she barked, uncaring at how the girl sobbed even harder. With a quick flick of the wrist her wand was in her grip, ready for battle.

The young Slytherin stumbled up the steps with both hands and feet, her face pinched in horror. When the first year was out of sight, Luna moved down the flight of steps, to see the slumped young man on steps. Ravenclaw…a second year.

To pinpoint a moment in time when the infection on Luna Lovegood's soul fanned out into a plague, this would be that second. Staring down at a boy that she had passed in the common room, curled up with a advanced year book, growing colder by the second. One of his feet twisted on the steps, showing that he had been running up the stairs only a minute ago. His wand still in his fingers, stiffened by the magic ravaging his inners.

Luna's hand loosened on her wand, nearly letting it slip through her fingertips, and her eyes dilated. Her hand moved up to rub the small hourglass hanging around her neck, eyes burning with tears as the screams grew louder beneath her. Whatever was happening was only a few flights away, and then she might be lying next to the dead thirteen-year-old.

Rubbing more quickly on the shapely glass, she dropped down to her knee to stare at the student. She could…she would…she looked down at the small hourglass feeling the weight of it on her palm. She had to turn it back…to stop this…whatever it was…she touched the knob turning it only once. 

A slow horror performed before her eyes, watching the young girl jerk backwards, and the young boy come back to life before her eyes. Only the slightest glimpse of a robe and then she was back, back in the empty hallway. Looking about herself, she noticed the sereneness of the castle that had pressed only her only one time turn ago.

Staring up at the steps, Luna perplexed where she was in the castle at that moment, whether she had enough time to run up and warn someone or the rules would forbid her. Deciding instead to move down the steps, instead of tempting fate, her feet carried her down in a slow building run.

The Ravenclaw ran dozens of flights until she wondered if the stairs were leading her in a circle. Stumbling to a stop, she looked about her. Leaning against the wall, she knew mentally that it would only be moments before whatever had killed the second year would be upon them.

"Miss Lovegood?" Madam Irma Pince, Hogwarts' Librarian, stood before her. A woman of thin vulture like features, who eyed everyone with a suspicious anger. Her hands clutched a wobbling book which she tightened her grip on seeing Luna glancing at it. "Why are you not in class?" 

Luna blinked at the woman, her head blank for even a ridiculous reply. "Something…something…" Luna panted, not realizing until that moment how out of breath she was.

Madam Pince's eyes thinned making her look even more bird-like, while her fingers dug into the cover of the book until they looked like talons. The long black nails digging into its spine making it jerk about in her grip, until it finally fell still for the first time. "Thirty points from Ravenclaw!" the older woman snapped, moving closer. "And another twenty for not answering when I…"

The first scream went up in the air, catching both of their attention and making Madam Pince nearly drop her book. Her face scrunched up on itself, making her look like a wrinkled-up, dying vulture. She pulled her wand, but instead she was clutching her feather duster. Her face crumbled as soft whining moved closer to them.

Luna leaned over the banister, her eyes catching sight of the running students and what she believed to be Professor Rolanda Hooch trying to protect as many as possible. She squinted down trying to catch site of who and what was coming into the castle, when she heard a whining cry run passed her. Turning on her heels, she recognized the Slytherin and Ravenclaw, whose faces were already drowning in tears.

Madam Irma turned a wide eye on her, before charging down the staircase. Her wand now in her hand, and arm still holding the book to her, but now like a shield. "GET DUMBLEDORE!" The word was more a growl then a scream, making her jerk back up the steps.

Two steps at a time for four flights when she saw the back of the Ravenclaw. His face twisted in scared panic, as he tried to usher the first year in front of him. The Slytherin stumbled about like a drunk, her movements growing more unbalanced with each step.

"RUN!" The boy screamed more in encouragement then actual anger, pushing against the girl's back. The first year stumbled hard, as the first shots of magic floated up to them. It felt like a moist, oppressive heat on Luna's chest.

"RUN!" The boy screamed again, jerking the young woman up and forward. He started to move forward when a black sparkle of magic knocked him on the shoulder.

"No!" she screamed, running forward, but with a quick jerk backwards she was in someone's grip.

"Stop!" a soft feminine voice snarled in her ear, yanking her hair, making her unable to turn and face her foe. "Don't move." A sharp poke in the back warned her of the wand, as the hand in her hair dropped away.

Luna remained stock still for several seconds before realizing what the hand was reaching for. The time turner was in a small hand, clutching it like it was life itself. The Ravenclaw tried to jerk away but the wand poked into her spine.

"Help Harry." Luna jerked about ignoring the words, even as the hand moved the time turned two times. "Or he'll die."

The last words echoed in her head as she watched the movements roll backwards, even herself running backwards down the steps. The stairs had lead her in a circle, she thought before a sharp pain stuck the back of her head and she went out cold. Only blackness filled her, as her body was lifted magically and floated up the staircase.


	28. Inward Hell

No ear can hear nor tongue can tell the tortures of the inward hell!  
-Lord Byron

The density of the night had been his companion since his escape; the quiet chirps of insects and animals his only friend in this place. They knew his secrets; they knew his pain that grew into a paralyzing, screaming molten throb that stole his sanity for more time than he remembered. The past, present and future dug into one another in his mind now, only keeping the clarity of time riding on the thin line in his thoughts.

Perhaps that is partly what had helped him escape from their clutches, and also what had kept him from returning to the people he was stolen from nearly five years ago. Or maybe it was the whispering of his inner voices, the imps that came into light during his imprisonment. Imps that had stripped him of all he was before. Their was nothing left of the old Ronald Weasley, only the name that seemed more like a distance dream to a nameless man.

He was nothing more then scraps of what the Death Eaters had allowed to live; the meat of his body, scarred with the torments that they had taken from his skin. He could still feel their touches on him, the muscle under his flesh, the burning of the Dark Mark he was forced to endure as a further torture and humiliation. They had claimed their ownership over him, and even when he tried to dig it out of his skin, its poison seeped up into his elbow then his shoulder. Now all he could do was endure the pain, to allow it to take him whenever it beckoned. To allow them, even at a distance, to steal his mind away for their own pleasure.

Ron stared deeper into the deep blue of the fire, ignoring the soft breathing of the wizard in the distance. The small cuts on his skin already scabbed over with the potion Ron had poured over the torn flesh before unceremoniously dragging him back to the hut he now called home. Causing only the slightest discomfort for the unconscious man, his face only wincing from the three steps he had taken to get into his home.

"Tonks," Ron rolled the name over in his mouth, making a bitter salty flavor ooze from his taste buds. Even now, he felt the instinct to dig his fingers into her flesh, to rip at the frozen flesh until she was just like him. Raw.

"Betrayer," he hissed under his breath. The fire flared up into orange pops, almost seeming to sense what the presence meant to Ronald. "Betrayer!" His instinct to run back to the field made his flesh burn more then the claustrophobic heat that pressed against him. To make her pay the crimes she had hidden, how she had snuggled herself sweetly into the arms of his unknowing allies. She would pay before the night was out though; he could almost taste the claws of the Death Eaters not far away. The offer of a fresh meal would appeal greater then Hogwarts, for the old dying cell could not compete with warm, unmoving magic.

"Tonks." The soft half-dazed mumble barely made a noise above the crackle of the fire, but Ronald Weasley did not miss the familiar voice. He didn't bother to turn to look at the wizard though, knowing Wood would not be strong enough to attack him.

For the first time in years, Ron felt a remorse for attacking before thinking. His instincts had turned animal-like, lashing out before thought, especially upon seeing the Metamorphmagus in the distance. All he knew is that another wizard could present a problem if he allowed him, so he had simply eliminated it. Wood had taken a hit, but nothing more then a minor Quidditch accident. Especially considering all the years Oliver had trained up in Pro teams.

"Tonks." Ron did turn at voice this time watching the twitching skin. The wide-eyed stare focused on him for a moment before turning to look up at the ceiling. "I died." The tone was so flat that it made Ron chuckle, despite the shock it registered in the back of his head. 

"No." Ron voice fell somber suddenly, losing why he was he was chuckling at all. "Not yet."

Wood continued to stare up at the ceiling, his face turning dark shades of orange and blue from the heat and light. "Then Tonks is dead." It seemed strange statement to Ron, but did not question it as he turned back to the fire.

"Most likely." Death Eaters were not far off when he had frozen the witch, shocking him slightly but giving him a pleasure of knowing she would die a most painful death. No less then what she deserved, no less then the hell he had been put through. She would at least have the gratification of death once they stripped her soul.

"NO!" The red head didn't bother to turn around hearing the man stumble up, Oliver's body thumping against the wall twice before Ron heard the first clumsy footstep. "Where is she? What if the Death Eaters find her?"

"No less then what she deserves," Ron whispered, tossing a stray branch into the fire. His eyes narrowing at the thought that the bastards find her, he doubted that they would give her a chance to tell all her secrets for the security of her life this time. She would not be able to betray the Phoenixes so easily, nor leave him to die with such an imprudence.

No one was theirs to take the brunt of their anger, while she watched with tear-filled eyes. Her screams making the earth more like hell in his pain-driven madness before she blurted out every secret that their allies had informed them. All he could do was watch in blood-hazed horror, his voice a gurgle of begging, telling her over and over that he would rather die. But it was not his life she had given away her comrades for but her own lousy hide.

Her babbling that she would inform everyone he had died a hero's death before she was Portkeyed away from his sight. It was a memory that the imps had cherished and used while the Dark Mark ravaged his body. Sometimes, he could even picture her retelling the story to them while he lay in a cell, rotting away, laughing as he screamed in agony.

"WHAT?" Oliver grabbed the front of Ron's robes, his hand rose threateningly, but it was a hollow gesture due to lack of wand. "SHE IS A…"

"BETRAYER!" Ron snarled, pushing against the taller Wizard's chest. Wood stumbled backwards, hitting soundly against the wall before sliding down. His eyes losing focus for several seconds, before he forced his stare on Ron.

"SHE IS NOT A BETRAYER!" The blonde Wizard growled through clenched teeth, lifting himself from the ground with obvious pain. "SHE IS A…"

Ron took a threatening step forward, his hands holding both his own and Oliver's wand. "A what?" His voice was low, taking a shade deeper than he thought possible. "Hero?" The word was spat out with venom, while his hands tighten harder on the wand handles.

Wood lifted his chin, glaring at the silhouetted Wizard with a preparedness. Dying was never far off for anyone who fought against Voldemort. "Yes, " he curled his lips into a small smile, "she is."

Ronald felt the magic tingling on his fingers, the beckoning of it making his imps scream in excited chants. "Kill, Kill, KILL!" His mouth tightened into a snarl, as the images of a dead wizard flashed in his brain like a separate reality.

"STOP!" Weasley turned on his heels, kicking a stray log from the magical fire to explode against the hut wall. The embers glowing deep red, then orange, then a hazy violet before he closed his eyes. He would not give in to those bastards, he would not give in to himself.

Wood stared at the dark back, his eyes blinking rapidly to get the image out of his head that had flashed before him only a moment ago. The fire log hadn't created a burst into a hot light that illuminated the wizard for the first time since he had woke. His eyes hadn't seen a bright red head, or a shape that looked like Weasley. He had not seen one of the fallen, the one he had grieved over with Tonks for years.

"I will let you go at first light," Ron whispered, ignoring the way the wand felt in his fingers. "Until then, I suggest you get some sleep." He turned stiffly, walking towards the door with purposeful strides.

"What about Tonks?" Oliver's voice didn't hold the conviction it had only minutes ago.

Ron stilled for a second, his jaw clenching at the name. "What about her?" 

"Where…I…You can't…She…" Wood was too caught up in thoughts of the past to get out anything beyond a few unfinished words.

"If she lives till first light you can have her," Ron growled, dropping Woods wand to the floor. "But don't expect much." He threw open his front door, before looking back at Wood. "She didn't."


	29. Return to the Burrow

Author Note- thought it was time for a little bit of joy.

Molly Weasley pursed her lips at the half frozen meals she had set out nearly four hours ago for Hermione and Draco, who had sworn to be back in an hour. Their eyes sparkling, and smirking they might have a guest returning with them. She could see the mischief in their faces, Merlin knows she had seen it daily in Fred and George's faces. 

Even now she could see it flashing behind their eyes, clutching their latest creations even though she scolded them it could explode at any second. The crystals their most used creation, while neither twins favorite, made her shaky just looking at them. Bright colors, each holding grim effects, shimmering everywhere in their room. They would wink at her from desktops, nightstands, open books, even some being used as bookmarks. While she had more then expressed her feelings on the bookmark use, it had not stopped them from leaving them about for any poor soul to enter their domain to explode in a horrifying pop.

Picking up the two plates she sighed, knowing that their tardiness was probably due to her mischievous sons who had disappeared with a matching grins not long after them. Their pockets full of probably their newest creations, for as they put it, "A nice quiet stroll." She wasn't even sure they knew the definition of quiet from their complete lack of it since their births.

Staring down at the plate, she tried to ignore the way it made her stomach twist, the corned beef on the plate reminding her of times gone by. Waving to her sons and daughter from the platforms, with a hot corned beef sandwich in their pockets, if she knew her children at all. (All except Percy of course.) Mashing up into a ball until hunger over ran the excitement of the new school year. It made her eyes burn despite how she fought against the warm memories of the past, the times when she watched their faces glow with happiness.

Now she could see the shadow crossing her…remaining children's faces and could see the lines of loss in her and Arthur's face. Her husband's easy going nature tightening over the years, even though the unburdened man of the past would surface with a warm smile that would light up the room, each time he saw any of their children.

A good father and husband who was probably in bed wondering why she had not returned yet. Even before the War Arthur would come down the steps, staring at Molly with half sleep hazed eyes to mutter staying up pacing would not bring them home any faster. He coxed her back to bed, which she usually complained about the entire time, snuggling up to her until she fell asleep in a warm restful sleep. It would always be interrupted by one of her children finally arriving home, which she would properly scold them over.

Quickly reaching up to wipe at a stray tear, she completely forgot about the contents of the plate that promptly tumbled to the ground. "Merlins!" She was just thankful that it wasn't the soup she had first thought of this morning, cleaning that would much more time consuming then just chips and corned beef. 

"Molly?" Arthur's voice floated down the stairs, sounding more asleep then awake.

"Be up in a moment Arthur." Molly sighed up, knowing her husband wouldn't expect her up to bed for at least another fifteen minutes. She knew she should just go to bed, to try to shake away the itching fear in the back of her mind for Draco and Hermione. While they were both very capable Wizard and Witch they could find trouble that they might not be prepared for, if indeed her instincts were correct, with Fred and George.

Leaning down she slowly began to pick up the food scattered at her feet, forcing away the nervous burn in the pit of her stomach. They would all be back at the Burrow soon enough, probably covered head to toe in grim. Picking over her muffins she had prepared earlier in the day, spoiling their urge to eat breakfast like a normal adult. A soft smile warmed her lips, making her feel lighter then she had then she had for the last three and half hours. 

Picking the last of the useless food off the floor, she piled them on the plate. She would simply put these away, and then just go to bed. Her instincts always warned her when her children were coming home, not to mention the spell to wake her and Arthur when anyone entered the Burrow at night.

"Mum?" Bill's voice was soft in the dark, nearly scaring the life out of Mrs. Weasley and making her spill half of the plates contents.

"Bill!" She snapped, smiling despite the fact that her heart felt like it was up in her throat. "You shouldn't sneak up on…"

She fell silent seeing the stricken look of his face, his eyes tired. "Do we have any sleeping draft?"

Molly didn't have to ask who it was for, Fleur had been having several nightmares lately, especially since the pregnancy. Bill had grown more anxious with his wife, seeming to be more paranoid then his mother had ever seen him. "Tell her not to take to much or the morning sickness will be worse in the morning." Molly pulled the vile from her robes, smiling comfortingly at Bill. She knew Fleur would not be silly enough to take too much of the potion but Bill had a tendency to overreact when it came to Fleur.

"Yes…yes…" Bill took the potion vile, kissing his Mother on the cheek. "Thank you, Mum." 

Watching her eldest son racing up the stairs, she smiled at his over protectiveness. Even though he still never listened to her about cutting his hair, and the fang earring he had become a fine husband. Most likely as fine a husband and father as his father. She really should go to bed, Arthur would be coming down soon if she didn't come up. With a small shake of her head, she moved to put away the plates.

"Mrs. Weasley?"

Molly turned on her heels to stare at Draco, his robes completely missing and his arm hanging limply at his side. "Draco, where have you been?" She moved towards the young Wizard, noticing the small scratches and his scorched hair. "Are you alright dear?"

Draco stumbled forward, his mouth trying to smile but his body giving him too much pain. "I…We…"

A panicked throb went up in back, looking around for his Witch companion. "Hermione?" She directed the question to the blonde who slouched into a chair, forcing a smile on his face finally.

"Right here, Mrs. Weasley." She sighed, stumbling into the kitchen.

"Molly?" Arthur called down the stairs, his voice wide awake this time.

"It's just Hermione and Draco, Arthur." Molly called up, setting the plate on the table. Her eyes taking a quick check of both of them, trying to see all the damage. "Were you attacked?"

"Sort of?" Fred grunted, maneuvering to allow George and himself to hold up the barely conscious young man. "Dementors."

Molly covered her mouth, horror crossing her face as she looked at each of them. "You're not hurt? Draco? Hermione? Fred? George?" She made a small hiccup, moving closer to them.

"No, but…" George nodded his head to the boy he and Fred were supporting between them, causing Molly to notice his presence for the first time. Each of the four faces lit up, and their eyes sparkling brightly.

"We have a guest." Draco smirked, making a perplexed frown form on Mrs. Weasley's face.

"Oh, you poor dear." Molly moved towards the boy, pushing passed his hair to feel his lowered forehead. "You had better take him to bed he is quite warm." She frowned at her twin's boys faces who remained motionless. "Don't worry dear, you will be…"

Harry's eyes blurred for several long seconds but the warm feel of a familiar voice called him into full consciousness. Lifting his head he stared at Mrs. Weasley, her face unchanged from when had last seen her. Even the twinkle in her eyes was the same. "Mrs. Weasley." His lip quivered seeing her staring at him, her face growing more pale by the moment. Tears slipped out of his eyes that he couldn't deny.

Molly lip quivered, staring at the young man she had not seen in over a decade. She turned to stare at her sons, their faces warm with smiles. "Mum, you remember Harry." Fred grinned, a glaze of tearful mischief in his eyes.

"H…H…Har…Harry." Molly whispered, reaching out to touch the young man's cheek. He was warm…and really here. Her hand shook for several seconds, tears streaming down her cheeks. "HARRY!" She sobbed, throwing her arms around the young man.

Fred and George let go of Harry's waist to allow black haired Wizard to hug her more fully. Their faces warm with emotion, watching as they clutched the young man to her. "Mrs. Weasley." Harry whispered, letting his face drop into her warm, soft shoulder.

"Harry…Harry." Molly chanted over and over again, feeling for the first time a lifting of the shadows on her soul. It made her feel like one of her fallen children had come back to her…no one of her children had come back to her. "Harry."

"Molly?" Arthur stood at the foot of the stairs, his robe hanging from his shoulders and pajamas showing through. "What's the matter?" His hand hung limply at his side, his wand still in it. He stared at everyone in the kitchen. "Draco are you alright?"

Molly leaned back to touch the crying young man's face, pushing back stray hairs on his forehead to see the lightening shaped scar on his forehead. Even though she knew that this was Harry Potter, she some how needed to see the scar to make it more real. She could feel it all the way down to heart, which was about to jump out of her chest. "Harry."

Arthur moved forward, frowning at his Wife's back. "Molly?" She turned to him, tears rolling down her cheeks and the happiest smile had seen in years on her face.

"Arthur." Molly moved away from Harry keeping her arms around him just in case he couldn't stand on his own.

Arthur frowned at the young man in front of him for a moment before clarity dawned on him. His eyes growing saucer like as he grabbed Harry to pull into a tight bear hug. "Harry." His voice couldn't work above a whisper, hugging the young man who had died in the raid of Hogwarts nearly eleven years ago. "How?" 

"It's…complicated." Hermione smiled, tears dripping down her cheeks.

"Really complicated." Draco smirked, trying to ignore the way his body ached.

"And your going to explain." Molly voice was firm even through the tears.

Bill stumbled down the stairs, his eyes slightly worried. "Mum, what's going on?"

"Bill?" Harry choked, looking over Mr. Weasley's shoulder.

The small vile of sleep draught dropped to the floor, shattering to a thousand pieces as Bill Weasley fell to the floor in a faint.

BetaLarilee


	30. Magic is Never Truly Lost

His strength was dying in his body, melting away the last of his reserves in a slow burning pressure. Thought itself ached in his scrambled brain making everything a hazy shade of themselves. The milky blue of moonlight seemed like roaring oceans on the walls. Their lapping waves making his body teeter from side to side until, finally, his balance gave out to toss him unceremoniously to the ground. It didn't make a difference anymore…his body was too far gone in the pain of the passed weeks. All the aches, throbs, and puckering wounds were all cutting his consciousness to the quick. 

He would just be left on the floor to die like some Muggle, some pathetic half-breed that had not given his soul's allegiance to the Dark Lord. The man who would finally prove that Wizard's were the greater power, that they would not have to hide in the shadows of Muggles. They would bow at Voldermort's feet, beg for his mercy and receive their just position in life. Lower than the Dark Lord, and in turn lower then himself. All he had to do was escape.

He cringed to himself, knowing that pathetic excuse for a pureblood would leave him. Longbottom was always hiding in the shadows, letting any who wished step all over him. Slack jawed, wide-eyed, innocence dripping from every pore, while he was used like nothing more then a common pillock. Pathetic.

Neville gave off his weakness in his face, the sad expression in his eyes, and most of all the mercy he gave to his victims. It sickened him to think he could not even die like a Death Eater, instead he was left on the ground like a dying dog. Nothing more than the Muggles he had tortured for the Dark Lord's pleasure.

He would not die such a death, no matter how much his body wanted its release. He would have his revenge on Longbottom, Snape, and very soon that nothing of a house elf-Dobby. The creature was no more then disposable asset, especially for what he had in mind.

Seamus narrowed his magic, forcing past the barrier that Longbottom had left. It was stronger than he would have thought Neville was capable of; the Wizard was a complete idiot. For several seconds, he tried to pinpointed the weakness in his mind. After a long sharp needle pain went through his skull, and one spell of near unconciousness, he decided he needed a clearer focus. He had to turn over, to look at it more thoroughly. Seamus's body didn't move, not even a muscle twitched under his command. He would have to wait for a couple of minutes; his body had solidified from the motionlessness.

One minute passed, magic flowing through his body trying to work out the wooden feeling in his joints. His toe did a slight wiggle but not enough for him to feel any victory over.

Two minutes. His mind clouded over with the magic, trying to knock him unconscious. It wanted to repair him, but Seamus would not have the little reserve he held to be wasted on his body repair. Feeding off of the house elf would do the job much better.

Three minutes…Consciousness gave out in three quick secessions, but only enough to make his skin burn with wakefulness. He wondered if it had only been seconds or hours since he opened his eyes last, every time he blinked. He tried to concentrate on the patterns of moonlight, the distance the light was glowing up the wall.

Five minutes…The pain was sharper. 

Nine minutes…His skin came to life burning but his limbs were flexible again. They followed his commands to let him wiggle, over to his back. His head rolled to side following the movement of the rest of his body, catching the vision of the door. It was bathed in unearthly whites, blues, and a sickly yellow. It wasn't much, but he knew that he could latch onto Dobby.

The idiot creature had no idea how much magic he still held, it was growing stronger every day to how much he had suppressed it. He had felt it as soon as he had been dragged into Snape's manor, knowing the signs from learning from the masterful hand of Lucius Malfoy. He had taught him how to break these creatures, slowly; making them think that all their magic had abandoned them to the torments. Even the strongest witch or wizard couldn't see the signs to know that the animals still had power in them. A fact that made using it against them in the end all the sweeter.

"Dobby." His words came out in a hoarse gargle, sounding more like Snape then himself. It was harsh, abrupt and lacking in the strength that Death Eater should hold. It would be enough to trick the creature into his web, draining him before leaving only the shell to die out.

"Dobby." Seamus dug his fingers into the unforgiving ground, trying to keep control of his consciousness. He had to hold on long enough to escape; he could drain some the reserve from the house-elf to numb his pains. Then he could go to Pansy, taste her lips once again, and for the first time at the same time. She would help him, love him, and advise him on how to tell the Dark Lord of Longbottom and Snape's betrayal.

"Dobby!"

The strong pungent odor of magic breaking was thick in the room, making his stomach clench painfully from lack of contents. All he hoped was Longbottom wouldn't notice the house-elf coming for him; hopefully Neville was still trusting enough not to guard his door while he thought Seamus was dying. Respect for the dying or some rubbish. "Dobby."

Minutes ticked by slow and syrupy until Seamus wondered if it had been days. His eyes burned from dryness, and the pain began to subside to a distant ache again. It was apart from him, off in the distance for him to watch if he wished. "Dobby."

Unconsciousness claimed him rather unexpectedly, his mind only realizing it from the change in the lights on the door. The white glowed in an unsullied brightness. The Dark Lord called to him again, the only warm pain he had felt in days. It was demanding, annoyed that he hadn't come before him. "DOBBY!" The castle seemed to be shaking under his shoulders, or perhaps it was the trembling from the pain. His mind wanted to give out one more time, but he could feel the creature on the other side of the door. The whimpering was soundless from the Silencing Charm, but he could feel every sob in his own chest. 

"DOBBY!" he snarled, growing impatient with the animal. 

Two beats, then the door was clicking open. The sharp nose of the house-elf peeking passed the edge of the door, dripping small frightened tears. "Master Snape?" Dobby's voice was filled with fright, panic, but most of all hope. "Master..."  
Seamus let fat tears well in his eyes, letting the small quivers of pain finally take over. "Please...please..."  
Dobby jumped away from the door, his nose slamming into the doorframe painfully. A terrified scream caught in the back of his throat, choking him like a large ball of cotton. His hands rung together, standing in the doorway until the whispering voice drew his curiosity. It was soft, miserable, and choking on pain. The time he had spent at Lucius's hands made it easy to spot.  
Nervously, he straightened his spine to shuffle forward again. His face crinkling up smelling a odd, but familiar odor coming from the inside. The man was lying flat on his back, seeming unable to move from his current position. His face was tight with suffering, dripping with tears.   
"Please...help...please."  
Dobby jerked back behind the safety of the wooden door, trying to gather up courage. The house-elf's breath came out in fast gasp.

"Please...help me...I'm...I'm d...dying." Seamus flinched against the light outside the room, making his performance all the more realistic. "Longbottom, please I fell down."

"M...M..." Dobby felt his mouth moving without his permission but it was too late to turn back now. "Master Longbottom has gone out."  
Seamus couldn't help the small whimper of joy. _Neville had not change...he was the same trusting pillock he always was._ "Please help me. I can't move." Blinking several times, he saw the small, scrawney shadow stumble from behind the door. It took over three minutes for the elf to finally move into the moonlight. His features were sunken, gaunt with malnourishment or perhaps dread. "Me'sa...Me'sa...D"  
"Dobby?" he whispered in an awed voice, staring at the creature like it was a ghost. How he wanted to just drain the creature, then perhaps take in a little wandless magic lessons on his body but he would have to wait.   
"M...Master Finnigan?" It didn't really surprise him that Dobby remembered him, but it displeased him to no end that the creature actually looked relieved. Moving closer, it knelt down next to him on the ground never once touching him. He tried to think of one reason to have it touch him, but not a single one popped into his pain wrenched mind.

"What'sa happen to's you?" Dobby looked frightened to touch him, but didn't move away from the body. 

"Death-Eater attack."

Dobby jumped back at that looking about the room like they would pour out of the walls at any minute. "Theysa, not..."

"No, Neville..." Seamus took a deep gulp of air he didn't realize he needed, "saved me."

That pleased the little creature, shuffling forward to stare at the man. His hand shaking slightly, eyes wide with the same innocent, slack-jawed expression of Longbottom. "Can'a helps you?"

"Help me up." Seamus tried to reach out his hand, but it refused to move. He had drained himself to thin, ; he needed Dobbby if he wanted to even breath much longer.   
Dobby looked unsure of what to do, looking about the room while ringing his hands. "Where'sa the bed?"

"I...I..." Seamus didn't want to think of a excuse, he was just too tired. He needed to get back to his Dark Lord, to Pansy. "Please...just help me up."

Dobby shifted the weight between his feet several times before reaching forward to take the bare arm. It had smudges of old burns there, making Dobby's skin burn just touching it. His small head buzzed for several seconds before his legs gave out from under him. "Me'sa...I'sa..."

Seamus took a deep breath of air, loving the pulse of energy numbing and awakening him at the same time. He had learned to do this from Lucius's guiding hand, and he had never been so grateful to the wise old Wizard. Dobby was slouching against the ground, losing conciousness after only five blinks of his tennis ball sized eyes. "Master..."

Finnigan head bobbed from side to side, trying to take in the hot energy of magic, before finally he couldn't take the lethargic bliss his muscles wanted to settle in. He tested his arms first, wiggling his fingers, then wrist, then all the way to his shoulder. Each arm took their turn, before he pushed the weight on his legs. It took him by surprise how quickly he could recover, and his feet had found their place beneath him.

Dobby lay motionless on the ground at his feet, making a small smile form on his lips. "Lucius will greatly regret missing this," he purred, lifting his leg to kick the elf square in the stomach. The body flew against the wall, seeming a rubbery toy than an actual creature. Moving closer, Seamus narrowed his eyes, feeling a small rush of adrenaline that he needed. Perhaps another kick then he could...

"DOBBY!"

The voice broke through the barrier, making Seamus flinch at its power. The deep boom of the Potion master's voice reverberated against the wall, making a small knot of panic well up in his chest. He needed to get away...NOW!

Seamus casted another glance downward, smirking at the milky colored skin of the elf. "Thanks." He scurried out the room, listening to the running of two pairs of feet on the stairs. He would escape through the secret passage Longbottom had brought him in. The fool Wizard hadn't even bothered to hide his entrance. A fact, that would be his undoing soon enough. Slipping down the hall, he could help but rejoice in the thought of returning home to finally answer the Voldemort's call.

BetaLarilee...who kicks so much a


	31. Press Pass

Author Note: Press Pass is the first chapter of Part Two of Edge of Gravity, which is several hours after the last chapter. I was going to start another story for Edge Pt.2 but I decided just to continue using this one. Also, I would like to take the time to thank all my reviewers. You have given me inspiration, and egged me on when I thought I wouldn't be able to continue with Edge. Thank you all!

Press Pass

There was a whirlwind of contagious excitement in the room, as warm false smiles were passed among the crowd. The faces were pale and indistinct except for the layers of thick makeup decorating each with a character that was not their own. Each were hungrily munching down on the quickly assembled buffet that was no more than half-stale muffins, a pile of boxed doughnuts, and coffee that was on the thick side. That however didn't deter anyone in their frenzy for free food, they shuffled around it like hummingbirds to honeysuckle.

Their voices were full of sharp, biting lopsided compliments that were raising higher the more sugar that wound its way through each of their systems. Even the silent equipment men exchanged glares with each other, snarling under their breaths about some sharp movement the others made to cut them off from the ever-steady flow of thick coffee.

He watched with little interest, while they dropped balls of napkins to the ground where they kicked in a unconscious soccer matches that no ever won. His attention was more on the guards surrounding the room, who were currently eyeing everyone with the little badges around their necks, such as the one he had on at that moment. The five letters were making all seven visible and three blending guards all the more rigid in their stance.

PRESS. The word could invoke fear into the strongest soul, knowing that a single word typed down could leave them in ruins. It was something that he was accustomed too, a lifestyle that left you playing on the edge of criminal and solicitous god. He like the rest of the beautifully painted hyenas knew this fact, and used it every turn for their advantage.

He was uncommonly good at my job, a respected reporter among twitching hellhounds who craved the blood of the descent and lapped at the hands of the hated. Perhaps that was why no one had come to bother him, sitting on his flattened cushion foldout chair. His distance noticeable to everyone, even his cameraman who had elbowed his way through the crowd to snatch three doughnut, which had undoubtedly been touched by a least a dozen of the flawlessly manicured fingers. 

But he was not their for a thick cup of coffee this time, nor to wait in nervous anticipation for the Prime Minister to address the crowd with unquestionably the same answers that had been stated nearly a hundred times in the past. He was sitting in his flat cushioned foldout chair patiently to watch for the younger Wizard rubbing the tip of a thin piece of wood between his fingers, eyeing the entire room with a disgusted disdain.

His obvious repulsion stemming from the Muggles who happily disliked everyone around them, while seeing how much food they could devour simply because it was free. A quick smirk crossed his face, before he rose to shuffle over to the younger man. The press pass on his chest glossy new, that he himself had laminated only an hour ago. 

"Dennis, you might want to hide that better before the Prime Minister comes out."

The short young man pushed the tip of his wand deeper into his sleeve before looking up, his face twitching as he shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "Is it…" Dennis looked through his mousy brown bangs, eyeing the group with apprehension. "Are they always like that?"

He lowered his voice, but he doubted that they could hear him above the grinding teeth.

"Unfortunately…yes."

"I just don't see how you do it, Colin." Colin Creevey smirked down at his little brother, before taking a new seat beside him. Dennis loosened his ramrod straight posture to slouch against the cold metal back of the chair, before looking at Colin. "I'm about to jump out of my bloody skin."

Colin bumped his brother's shoulder, causing the boy to smile despite himself. "It has its perks." A small argument grew in octave, causing the plain-clothed guards to propel forward, but remain outside the argument. The two cameramen snarled at each other, one actually stomping his feet before their reporters snapped them back in line. They exchange one last glare but shuffling after their reporters, like obedient puppies.

Colin smirked at the scene, knowing that if the guards had not been so obvious the fight would have continued until the Prime Minister stood on the podium. "Put it away Dennis, the guards are too on edge to allow an actual fight."

Dennis Creevey blushed slightly, shoving his half-exposed wand back up his sleeve. "Sorry, just been a wee bit jittery lately." He sighed, lowering his head to rest his chin on his chest. "With the raids…"

"Shh." Colin hushed his little brother; a wide false smile plastered itself on his mouth as a guard stealthily took a position beside them. "Now, you mustn't concern yourself over this so much. The Prime Minister has taken adequate measures, it's nonsense that you heard anything when we were coming in."

Dennis narrowed his eyes before looking up at his brother, who was mouthing 'rookie' to the guard who swept off, jogging to speak rapidly to a head guard. They buzzed about suddenly, even the plain clothed guards dropping the farce to take up position while another guard jogged from the room. "Why in the hell did you do that?"

Colin lounged back in his seat, smirking at the way the men jogged about the room with a anxious urgency that the group of reporters took no notice too. "You can never be too safe, Dennis."

Dennis eyed his older brother, noticing the extra guards filling the room. In the open doors, they could both see men jogging about, talking rapidly to each other, and talking on their radios. "Yeah, but how the bollocks am I to relay the message to Shacklebolt now?"

"Owl?" Colin grinned but let it drop quickly seeing the way Dennis deflated beside him. "Don't worry Dennis; the guards are probably going to grab you in a couple of minutes."

"WHAT?" Dennis screamed loud enough to make the entire table of 'vultures' turn towards them. Their eyes narrowed, several turned their noses up in the air trying to smell the story but turned away eventually to get in as many glowers as they could before the press conference began.

"Relax Den, they are going to bring you in front of Kingsley…" His younger brother loosened slightly, letting out a sigh of relief. "Eventually."

Colin shrugged, when Dennis turned wide eyed to him, his mouth hanging open in horror. "Eventually?" he whispered, pulling the tip of his wand from his sleeve to rub it in a nervous manner. "You mean…they think…I wouldn't…I mean I'm here to protect…"

"Relax, they are…" Colin fell silent suddenly, as his cameraman bounced up to him. His eyes darting about in their sockets, either from a sugar rush or he had some important news to report. "What is it, Boris?"

The overweight man jiggled in front of them, wires and cords wrapped around him for one purpose or another. His face a natural red and strangled expression was enough to make you sit on the edge of your seat with nervousness. Oddly bright blonde locks, and burnt brown of his eyes made him seem all the more puffy. "The Prime Minister will be out in a moment." He voice was deep but annoyed the ear just as much as a high-pitched squeal.

"Set up and I will be moment." Colin sighed, knowing that he was usually the first to set the trend of being prepared but he wanted to reassure Dennis that he was only joking. "Dennis, I…"

Colin jerked to his feet, looking about the room to find his missing brother. His cheeks drained color, had they come and taken him for questioning. They…He couldn't let…The bright pop of camera flashes blinked in the room, blinding him momentarily. Boris grabbed his arm, dragging him towards the middle of the crowd. His camera set, and his index cards of question pressed into his palm. "Dennis," he mouthed, looking about the room instead of at the Prime Minister who was moving at a turtle pace up to the podium.

"Prime Minister, are the raids on the Ministry believed to be terrorist acts?" a woman reporter barked beside his ear, making him grimace at its unimportance. That question had been asked at least a hundred times, and it was always the same textbook answer.

"We believe that this is the act of a small terrorist group…blah, blah blah." Colin knew the answers like the back of his hand, rewording the question them didn't make the reply different. Even though he knew they were all salivating for the Prime Minister to break down, and reveal all the Ministry's secrets. Like a politician would break down in front of reporters.

For the first time in his professional career as a reporter, he didn't give a damn about out scooping his fellow hellhounds. Dennis could possibly be taken, and being interrogated by the Ministry guards at this very moment. And pulling his wand was worthless since most of them were Wizards, who had stuck to their assigned position given by the Wizarding Ministry before it fell.

"Ask something," Boris snarled, hitting his shoulder that caused him to round and stare down his overzealous cameraman.

"Boris…" Colin fell silent, seeing the mousy brown mop of hair through the crowd. Looking at Boris, then at his note cards, then back out through the crowd he decided. He dropped the cards on the seat, and muttered for Boris to keep filming before he pushed through the crowd. "Dennis."

Dennis stood at the back of the room, bouncing from foot to foot. His eyes were shining brightly, with obvious accomplishment. "Colin, why aren't…"

"Where were you?" Colin couldn't keep the scolding tone out of his voice, frowning at his little brother. "I was worried."

Dennis looked at Colin for a full minute before grinning like a idiot. "You know you sound just like Dad." 

"Pillock!" A couple of stray press pass personal frowned at him but quickly turned back to their own business when he frowned back. He finally decided to ignore the slow moving offended persons, to stare down at Dennis. "Now, where were you?"

"Shacklebolt saw me come in; he was only able to get away a few minutes ago." Dennis grinned, trying to hold back laughter. "I relayed the message a few minutes ago."

"Oh," was all that Colin was able to get out, frowning to himself. Britain's most accomplished reporter at a lost for words. He turned to the crowd, seeing Boris flounder behind his camera, looking about the room for signs of him. 

"You had better get back there." Dennis sighed, crinkling his nose at watching Boris's red face turn crimson.

Colin turned his back on the crowd to look at his little brother, smiling down at the mousy haired young man. "Are you going to stick around for awhile?"

Dennis grimaced once more in Boris's direction, before smirking up at his brother. "Of course, I wouldn't want to miss your chewing out."

Colin grimaced at that, knowing that Boris would blabber about this to the entire newsroom. "I'm just glad I have a contract," he groaned, not sure if he should try and push back through the crowd. "Oh, bollocks it. You want to go for a late breakfast?"

"What about Boris?" Dennis leaned over to stare at Boris, whose face had gone purple. He was actually looking at the index cards, going a purple-green.

"He can wrap up." Colin smirked, throwing his arm around his brother. "Besides, this isn't exactly breaking news."

Dennis smiled at Colin, bumping his head against his brother's shoulder. "I thought everything was breaking news to your type."

Colin thought for a second, biting his lip as they walked passed a group of guards who eyed them with nervous energy. "Am I that obvious?"

Dennis shook his head. "Yes, Dennis you always have been.."

Colin punched his younger brother's arm, while guards rushed passed them. Their faces were thick with tension that would probably not leave for a couple of days. He felt a slight guilt, looking through his lashes at the man jogging passed them. "Pillock," he whispered, not sure if he was talking to himself or Dennis.

Either way it made Dennis burst out laughing. "Now, you sound like Mum."


	32. Seamus's Grim Reaper

Severus Snape was a murderer, an executioner, a grim reaper with a scythe wielded into his fingers. He was the last sight on this earth for dozens, while they choked on his poisons, and dropped before his wand. The young man had loved the feeling of Godliness, the sentiment that each person belonged to him. Even his greatest enemies he had watched with glee, unblinking for that moment that made him vibrate inside…the moment they knew they were going to die.

The older version of that man, the hibernating monster that still felt the twinge for that moment stood inside the dungeon now. Finger stained a chalky red with Finnigan's blood, making him grin to himself. This was the first time he was killing without use of magic; the first time he had felt like the bogeyman that everyone thought he was.

Finnigan had screeched, cried, and whimpered and was so near the edge of death that he could smell it in his Seamus's pores. There was nothing that the young man could say, nothing he could do, just accept that Severus would not let him seep from his body until he had his fill of agony.

Each time, Finnigan had knew…Knew it was the end, Snape taught him how wrong he was. Blood oozed, puddle, stained then stopped. Skin puckered, bubbled, bruised, and tore and yet it mended itself. Seamus's magic that he had hoarded, that he had not used on his victims trooped against him. It repaired him, restored him, and delivered into a new level of hell. After, twenty-three he couldn't count anymore, or didn't want to he wasn't sure which.

"Please." The word had formed so many times on the young wizard's lips that Severus had picked up the pattern, the mathematics of Seamus's pain and relished its predictability. He time and time again brought the boy to pain that the devil himself would cringe away from. The ultimate anguish. The complete suffering. The grief that leaked inside an already tainted soul to break the calluses that kept it safe. Only the raw meat of Seamus's essence for Severus to obliterate, the way only another human could.

Snape knelt down, ignoring his body's protest with creaking knees and shoulders. His mind was too caught up, too embedded in this feeling to allow stiff joints to end the game before he had checkmated his opponent. "Please?" He leaned forward, his spine only allowing him to bend half of what he wished before he nearly teetered onto body laying on its side. "Is that the last word you will say on this earth Finnigan? Please?"

The boy trembled against the hot breath tickling against the gashes on the side of his face and ear. Even the slight moistness of the voice burned like acid in the freshest wounds. "Please…Sev…"

Snape's hand pushed down on the side of Seamus's throat, making fresh blood pool out of the long cut under his jaw. It flowed onto the back of the potion professor's hand, slide down his fingers and was ice cold from the skin before it dripped to the ground. "Begging for your life?" He knew he shouldn't be surprised but somehow he was, somehow he figured that inside this boy, this former student, that pathetic creature he would memorize with more then distain. He was wrong.

"Please." Blood seeped out the side of Seamus's mouth and Snape wondered if he had bite his tongue off with the way it poured out.

Snape stared down at his hand; feeling almost tainted by the blood and squeezed the neck tight in his fingers. "You almost killed him." His fingers tightened even further, and Seamus's wheezed beneath him while his hands tried to pull away the grip. They kept on slipping off him like it was oil instead of blood coating the man's hands.

Seamus face puffed up, while nails bite down to the quick tried to dig themselves into the pale skinned sadist's arm. His mouth forming a 'O', as if he were a fish out of water. The only relief that was allowed was his body was already too far gone to frail and knock about to cause anymore pain.

"You almost made me lose him." Severus watched the boy's face, changing a rosy pink while deep freckles of red blotched his cheeks and around his eyes.

Dobby…Dobby the creature that he could never care more then a wit, or at least what he told himself, had almost perished at the hand of this nonentity. Only now, only in this second did he realize how much that he didn't want to even watch this subordinate…this Voldermort clinger to die. He could not…would not allow to Seamus Finnigan to become part of him. He wouldn't let the house elf see it in his eyes like the others. Never would he allow this bastard another chance to see his Dobby even if it was only a scrap that would linger in him like his other victims.

Severus closed his eyes, leaning forward his all his body. The snap of bone was loud, and hand on his wrist took to rigor mortis almost instantly locking in place. Snape could not bring himself to look down, as he stood pulling the arm and part of the body from the floor.

The fingers were cold, and all he could think is how he wanted them off. The first finger broke like a dried twinge, and inside he couldn't rise himself enough to enjoy the pop of the fingers. Three and four…the thumb fell off him and he was free.

He stepped over the head, knowing without seeing the odd way the neck was zigzagged. The bones were too brittle, too weak to be any other way. Severus took long strides to the door, knowing without question Longbottom would dispose of the remains.  
He only prayed he wouldn't have to dispose of Dobby's because he wasn't sure his heart could take it.


End file.
